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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29180886">recovery</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelsalexis/pseuds/laurelsalexis'>laurelsalexis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bodyguard (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, David is a mess, F/M, Fake Character Death, Politics, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma Bonding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:13:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29180886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelsalexis/pseuds/laurelsalexis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She left him alone and he hates her for it. David wants to hate her. He wants to yell at her, he wants to argue, he wants to say the meanest things he can think of because she left him. She is gone and he is here. It's not fair.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>David Budd/Julia Montague</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>141</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Basically, I had a dream about these two and the next day someone asked me if I would write more fic so I decided it was fate. I've had the outline for this on my computer since the finale aired so time to actually write it! </p><p>This fic is sponsored by the ending being beyond stupid so let's say it's canon up until he drives off into the sunset with Vicky because what? Also, sponsored by the fact that you do not go to one therapy session (or just ask for help and take a shower, really), and suddenly you are happy and fine. Not in my fic land.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>David knows that sitting at Julia's grave is a pathetic move. If anyone catches him there he will be on the receiving end of that pitiful look he knows all too well. <em> The PPO that lost his principal and can’t seem to accept her death. </em> He's escaped to the cemetery without anyone knowing, without his phone on him even. He doesn't want to make up an excuse for why he's not in the mood to get a drink, or explain that he is fine and just wants to get back to work. He wants to be by himself. Even with Vicky he struggles to find the right words to say. She knows him a little too well and not at all at the same time. He isn't the same person he was when they got married, just as she isn't. They have both changed and now they don't fit. </p><p>He wants to thank Julia for opening himself to that. Except she is dead and now he is alone. </p><p><em> Alone</em>. </p><p>She left him alone and he hates her for it.</p><p>David <em> wants </em> to hate her. He wants to yell at her, he wants to argue, he wants to say the meanest things he can think of because she left him. She is gone and he is here. It's not fair. None of it is fair. </p><p>It's also not true, the way he acts as if he hates her. He doesn't. He <em> loves </em> her. He has never told her that. The guilt seeps in. Too much guilt for everything. She is dead <em> because </em> of him. She made his life better. Now he feels empty, hollow, and constantly waiting for the world to right itself so he can actually move on instead of being caught in a storm of depression and grief. </p><p>Sometimes he thinks it would be easier if there had been a bullet in the gun. One shot to the head and he's gone. <em> Over</em>. He wouldn't be causing all of the trouble he is. He's been Vicky's headache for far too long. It's so much easier until he thinks of the kids. That’s when he finds himself back to the guilt. </p><p>He almost left them without a father and he still sometimes thinks it will be better for them to remember him as a fond memory instead of the mess he's made of his life. </p><p>He's <em> such </em>a bloody mess. </p><p>Looking down at the grave with the dirt still fresh beneath his feet he feels the sorrow finding him in full force, once again. His eyes shut as he remembers her touch, her kiss, and the way she dominated every aspect of his life. She held so much control and it was the only thing holding him together. Not entirely. He sees the night of his hands around her throat and another wave of guilt finds him. </p><p>When he opens his eyes he has to rapidly blink back the tears so he doesn't start crying. He can't. He needs to be stronger than that. He <em> is </em> stronger than that, isn't he? Standing over the grave of...whatever she was. </p><p>Another sting.</p><p>He can't even call her his girlfriend, can he? He was supposed to protect her life and he failed. Everything moved so quickly it remains a mess in his mind. </p><p>His hand moves to brush the fallen tear away. </p><p>Turns out he isn’t stronger. </p><p>Suddenly, he doesn't feel so alone standing there. He should hide better. Maybe wear a hat. At least the papers haven’t caught on. The Daily Mail doesn’t waste any time printing the trashy stories that everyone takes as fact while still calling it a rag. He sets the flowers down. The headstone isn't there yet but it will be. That is when it’ll become real and permanent. Something he barely knows what to do with. He doesn't think of that. Instead he focuses on the purple lilies he sets down. Does she like them? He has no clue. He knows painfully little about her just like she knows painfully little about him. </p><p>
  <em> An illicit affair.  </em>
</p><p>The stolen glances, soft touches, hidden moments that craft them in the wake of trauma. The raw, dirty encounters that leave him basking as they don't keep their hands off one another for long. Forbidden. It’s not the forbidden nature of them that attracts him. It’s not the power imbalance. It’s <b>her</b>. In everything that Julia is he longs for her. It’s the way she looks at him. She’s determined but soft. She’s icy but cool to the touch. She will tell him to fuck off and then tell him to fuck her. She’s so many things he should never want, but does all the same. They bond in the middle of trauma, they long for one another, for comfort, for everything that they are and everything they don’t need to be as they come together in the bed. They’re human. So undeniably raw and <em> human</em>. That’s what brings them together. Nothing more. Nothing less. </p><p>Trauma bonds people in all sorts of ways. It always has. Not just lovers. Even his best mates from the war are bonded with him in ways that not everyone can understand. Most of them are dead now. Some from self inflicted gunshots, others a needle to the arm from a drug habit just to quiet the demons, and the rest simply wasting away until nothing exists anymore. The nightmares are quiet for them, but he still has his. It’s no wonder he looks as rough as he does, a mirror to the overcast hanging above him. It’s going to rain soon, as if the roads aren’t soggy enough. He welcomes it. Sunshine feels like a burden. </p><p>Everything feels like it’s a burden lately. </p><p>His life is full of loss. </p><p>With a heavy sigh he steps off the soggy soil that is caking to the bottom of his shoes, and away from the grave he can walk to in his sleep. If he sleeps at all. It's an attempt to leave. He should go back to his flat and try to implant those techniques his therapist keeps drilling in his head like a master sergeant. He knows he needs the help but there is a strong feeling of shame in him. It's all he knows. The men in his family have never been big on emotion. He’s struggling to change that. </p><p>He could feel Julia starting to unravel those parts of him, where it’s okay to be not okay, but now there is nothing to keep him from feeling <em> weak</em>. Men don't cry. Men don't show their feelings. Men are the providers and hold everything on their shoulders until they die. That is how it has to be. It's all he has ever known.</p><p>There is no room for weakness in the military. There is no room for weakness as he has to protect his principals with his life.</p><p>David will <em> not </em> be considered weak.</p><p>He straightens as he puts on his best steely composure and tugs at his jacket, bracing himself from the cool air around him. He puts forth that unemotional, detached look, so he can seem put together when he is not. It does not hurt that people rarely approach him as he looks as menacing as he does. </p><p>He’s recognizable in a way no one wants to be recognized. At least his face isn't all over the news anymore. He's been pushed aside. Just as she has. No longer is he the bloke with the bomb strapped to his chest. He moves from villain to victim to forgotten. They all have. Even Julia. </p><p>Not even Lorraine Craddock's involvement seems to matter anymore. They have all moved on.</p><p>He's trying to move on. </p><p>He really is. </p><p>The guilt prevents that. There’s so much guilt. Guilt for not saving her. More importantly, guilt for <em> surviving</em>. His therapist tells him he has it in spades. From Julia to those he was in Helmand with. None of it is directly his fault. He knows that. Deep down he does. On the surface he isn’t sure. </p><p>Finally, he moves to exit, knowing he cannot linger there all evening without bringing suspicion upon himself. He’s had enough of that recently. It’s time to go back to living a clean, simple life.</p><p>His training makes it easy to sense when he isn’t alone. The feeling is distinct, one that he can recognize anywhere, causing him to walk a bit slower as he walks through the gates. His hands are in his pockets as he walks down the sidewalk, pondering, if he should even bother. There’s no saying the person is there to do anything but visit a deceased relative. </p><p>Maybe he’s paranoid.</p><p>Of course, he cannot leave well enough alone. </p><p>David turns sharp on his heels and only sees the shadowy figure in the distance. The feeling turns into something else, something he cannot explain. It <em> nags </em> at him. </p><p>There’s a moment in which he ponders whether to go after the person dressed in the long trench coat and hat, making it impossible to see if it is someone he knows, if only to explain the feeling within him. </p><p>He doesn’t move but his gaze remains unchanged. </p><p>Deep in the pit of his stomach he desperately wishes for it to be Julia. </p><p>He knows it isn’t. Certainly not as the shadowy figure turns a corner and disappears into the London night.  </p><p>He likes to think if Julia is alive she'll search out for him, tug on him, pull him near. Or maybe shove him up against the brick wall like she pushed him against the wall in the bathroom before kissing him. </p><p>He'd give anything for one last moment. One last kiss.</p><p>He'd give anything to <em> see </em> her. </p><p>Moving on is difficult. </p><p><b>Impossible</b>, even.</p>
<hr/><p>"How have you been?"</p><p>David has only been there five minutes and he already wants to jump on the first train to Scotland to avoid this session and any others that come up. He knows he needs professional help, but sitting there getting it is something else entirely. He folds his hands in his lap as he looks at the woman opposite of him. </p><p>He guesses she is about the same age as Julia. Her eyes are hazel. Her hair is red. She looks nothing like Julia. She <em> isn't </em>julia. Instead she is the woman who is there to aid him through his mental issues. </p><p>"Have you been taking your medication?" She tries again when he sits there in silence staring at her.</p><p>David only blinks at her. "I don't need them."</p><p>"They will help."</p><p>He is stubborn, but he's also afraid. He has heard of things happening. What if he finds himself overmedicated? Or addicted? Or the real reason he doesn't take them...he is afraid of letting go of who he is. He's been the tortured soul for so long how can he just go back to being normal?  What is normal? What is grief? He lets out a sigh. He’s not worried about being addicted or overmedicated. He’s only trying to remain in control. He has no interest in giving that up. "I'll take them."</p><p>She doesn't reply, no doubt waiting for him to say something. </p><p>"I went to visit her grave." <em> Again</em>. He's been there quite often in the past few weeks. Not that he has told her that. He doesn't share his grief with anyone. </p><p>"Julia's?"</p><p>
  <em> Julia’s. </em>
</p><p>Like she isn't the <b>Home Secretary</b>. <em> Wasn't</em>. She's dead. She isn't anything at all. </p><p>She is someone he has barely mentioned. The pain and grief is too real now. If he starts speaking about her he's afraid he will start sobbing. He's really tired of the tears. Putting on a show where he doesn't need to do anything but push forward is exhausting, but right now his whole life is. He needs silence. </p><p>"Yeah." David eventually settles on the simple yes. "I brought her some flowers." What he doesn't mention is the feeling of someone being there with him.  </p><p>"What kind?"</p><p>“Purple lilies.” What he doesn’t say is <em> why </em> those flowers. Every time he looks anything even remotely lavender in color he thinks of her. He’s grateful that Ella seems to prefer green and pink over anything <em> purple</em>. One day he will be able to look at the color without such a visceral reaction, but he doesn’t think that is going to be anytime soon. He really doesn't like to talk about Julia. Not with anyone. Vicky has tried to broach the subject a few times, but he ignores her in favor of talking about anything else. It’s all painful memories for him. His mum has called a couple times with vague questions about how he is doing. He hasn’t shared the nature of his relationship or the fact that he almost shot himself without leaving her a note. She’s better off not knowing the things inside his head. </p><p>He still has the notes written to Vicky and the kids as a memory. </p><p>“I miss her.” He notes after a moment, slumping further into his seat, feeling a distinct sadness coming over him. </p><p>“That’s normal.” She says. “She died in a sudden, tragic way. A bombing. That is bound to leave you with uncertainty. When PPO’s lose their principals it takes time to recover and feel as if they did not fail. You haven’t failed, David.” </p><p>He cocks his head slightly as he watches her. His therapy sessions are stunted by his distinct last of honesty. David only provides half truths. </p><p>“We were fucking.” It’s blunt. It’s not the way he would phrase it with anyone else had it come up. Shagging probably would have been the term he used. As he sits there, however, he is trying to remain unattached and clinical. As if a few romps were all they had and not everything else. Still, it’s the closest they've gotten to <em> really </em> talking about Julia. He can’t tell if she already knows, but he decides it doesn’t really matter. He spoke the words aloud and now he waits and watches. He’s excellent at waiting and watching. “So, I <em> miss </em>her.” </p><p>Her face gives nothing away. “When did it start?”</p><p>“I will try to take my pills.”</p><p>“This is a safe space, David.”</p><p>The memory of it starting is vivid. Too vivid. He doesn’t want to forget, but he wishes the memory to be a little fuzzier than it is now. It’s strange how it started looking back. The touching, the closeness, the hand holding, the instant separation as she moves to the bathroom and he leaves. Two people built a connection off tragedy, trauma, and being shot at. They are fated to be this way, aren’t they? It wasn’t ever going to work. Definitely no chance of it now that she’s dead. </p><p>He remembers her calling, him rushing there in a way that is more than just her PPO, the touching, <em> everything</em>. He has more experience with that sort of thing. He is used to being shot at and nearly dying. The scars along his back prove how close he’s coming to nearly dying. </p><p>
  <em> I’m not the queen. You’re allowed to touch me. </em>
</p><p>“It just did.” He says quietly. “I don’t want to talk about her.” </p><p>“What do you want to talk about?” </p><p>“Nothing.” He answers honestly. A honesty that borders on sounding absolutely <em> exhausted</em>. “I’m tired of everything.”</p><p>“Are you having suicidal thoughts?”</p><p>“I don’t want to be here anymore.” He admits in a manner that can only be described as withdrawn. “But I’m not going to kill myself. I can’t leave my kids.” He still feels so much guilt from last time. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”</p><p>“You were suffering.” </p><p>David hopes that one day he can see that, but right now he is still suffering. His mind is torturing him and the guilt he feels is weighing on his shoulders even more. Every therapy session seems to make it worse. Wasn’t therapy supposed to make him feel better?</p><p>He still can’t stop his grief. Is he ever going to get over her death?</p><p>He can’t. Nothing is right. </p><p>When the session ends he doesn’t question anything as he drives to her grave instead of his flat. When he sits down in the dirt he decides it’s the only place he wants to be. </p>
<hr/><p>He and Vicky have fallen back into an easy dynamic. She's happy he is getting help and he's happy she is happy. They've always been friends, which is what he misses most. Most of his army mates are long dead, and the others are trying so hard to forge normal lives they don't want any memories of the life before. </p><p>They talk somewhat and a lot of the tension is gone. He's glad for that. He picks up the kids every Friday evening at 5PM like clockwork. He's never late and he never misses a day. No matter what. He works less now and he wants to spend time with them.</p><p>Most days he takes them to school, especially when Vicky works an early shift at the hospital. </p><p>Wednesday evenings he takes them both to Ella's dance class and soon enough they Charlie will join a football team. It's those little things that keep him going and makes him feel like he has a grasp on the kids lives even with him and Vicky and their broken down marriage. He <em> needs </em>this. </p><p>“How was therapy?” </p><p>David stands in the kitchen as the kids gather their things, staring at her. “<em>Fine</em>.” He answers quickly, hoping she’ll drop it, but that look on her face tells him otherwise. “It’s hard, Vick. I’m going, but it’s hard.” </p><p>“You took the first step. That’s what matters.”</p><p>“Yeah.” He nods, folding his arms over his chest, feeling uncomfortable and <em> seen</em>. They are on better terms but moments pass where he has no idea what to say to her. He doesn't want to open old wounds, but these new wounds are complicated. She hasn’t mentioned his suicide attempt and now that the wounds on the side of his head have healed he doesn’t either. “How are you?” </p><p>“Good.” She smiles, a soft genuine one. “Listen, I was thinking that you could take the kids for the week at the end of the month.” </p><p>“Are you going somewhere?” </p><p>“Allen and I were thinking of taking a holiday. If you’re up to it.” </p><p>For as happy he is that she is happy he still doesn't want to talk about it, or Allen. <em> Ever</em>. His jaw tightens slightly at the mere mention. Some of it has to do with the fact that Julia is gone. His chance at happiness is gone. He lets out a breath. “Yeah, of course. You don’t have to ask. I’m their dad. I’ll always take them when you need.” He’s not the babysitter type dad. </p><p>“Thank you.” </p><p>He gives her a polite smile just as both kids come running in with their backpacks. He squats down to give them a hug. “Ready? Say bye to Mummy.” </p><p>“Bye!” They say at the same time, giving her a hug, as she gives them each a kiss before they are out the door. </p><p>When he has his kids it’s the time he feels the most normal. There is no wallowing or thinking of everything he’s been through. Instead he puts the mask of the happy, perfect dad on. He smiles and laughs as they play at the park. He gets them pizza just as they ask. They get to stay up a little too late to watch a movie he’s seen ten thousand times, and would watch a thousand more times. He’s so grateful to still be in the moment with them.</p><p>He reads them a story before he shuts the door and winds up back in his bedroom. With the door closed behind him he lets out a breath and stands with his back against it. </p><p>His eyes close as he tries to will away all of the thoughts that haven’t crept in all day. He was distracted before and now his mind is blank. It’s the moments where he is alone that are the hardest. </p><p>David can’t even understand how he got so attached so quickly. They didn’t know each other all that well. Not really. He knows her politics. He knows they disagree on certain things, and he knows it’s people like her who put him in the position he’s in. It’s him on the front lines and the politicians voting for war and bombs and the scars that line his body and his mind are because of people like her. Sometimes he thinks maybe he really can hate her. </p><p>Then he doesn’t. </p><p>It’s so fucked that he can’t. It’s so utterly, beyond <em> fucked </em>that he wishes she was there in his bed, by his side, holding onto him as tightly as he needs to be held on instead of standing there alone. </p><p>“Fuck.” He breathes out before he gets in the shower. He stands under the hot water until it feels as if his skin is about to burn off. He gets dressed before he sits on the edge of the bed. </p><p>There’s a journal on the edge of the nightstand. An idea from his therapist to mark down the dark thought, the nightmares, and everything else that plagues him so he can get it out of his mind. As if writing it down will make him forget. He opens it only to find the pages blank.</p><p>He never writes anything down. </p><p>The notes he left to Vicky and the kids fall out. He doesn’t know why he’s been holding onto them. He does, actually. He knows exactly why he holds onto them. </p><p>That’s not the path for him.</p><p>He grabs them, staring down for a moment, closing his eyes. That guilt finds him again. That never ending guilt that feels as if it is going to eat him alive.</p><p>He rips them up. He doesn’t need them. He won’t ever need them. </p><p>He can’t do much about how he feels, but at least he can live. </p><p>That’s all he has going for him right now and with the kids asleep in the other room it’s enough. </p><p>For now, it’s enough. </p>
<hr/><p>As Monday rolls around, and his time with the kids is over until Wednesday morning when he takes them to school, he finds how empty his life feels now. He’s on leave for the time being. A forced vacation. After everything they want him to take some time to collect himself and there is not an option to tell them that he is fine. Especially with his relationship with Julia coming to light with Anne Sampson at the very least, the PTSD he likes to deny he has even if he sees a therapist twice a week, and his hard shell that has been cracking just a little too much as of late.</p><p>He doesn’t do well when he has nothing to do.</p><p>Most of his time is spent locked within the confines of his flat. He cannot remember the last time he’s had so much free time. When he was a teenager, probably. That time when he was not yet old enough for a proper job, but a little too old for everything else. He can remember a small time when he just got out of the Army before transitioning into the career that seems to have hit him harder than the Army has. </p><p>That time he had Vicky and the kids as he healed and tried to right himself. He wasn’t great then, but he isn’t great now either. </p><p>Loneliness is a feeling he’s become accustomed to. </p><p>He grabs a beer out of the fridge and plops himself down in front of the telly with some cold pizza the kids didn’t finish. He flips through the channels as he finds nothing of interest until a movie in black and white bores him enough to lull him into a sleep. He still doesn’t sleep well, but those moments when he’s nodded off on the couch get him through the day. It’s the only sleep he gets.</p><p>The sound of the phone ringing jolts him out of his sleep.</p><p>“Budd.” He answers the number that is blocked. He runs his hand over his face as he tries to gather exactly where he is. He is groggy and confused and really misses the dream of him and Julia walking around London as if they are a normal couple. He wants to go back to that world. Not the one he is stuck in.</p><p>“I know it’s late.” The voice of Anne Sampson says on the other end of the line. “Get dressed.” </p><p>“Ma’am?” He blinks a few more times. He is off duty as far as he is aware and has no idea why she is calling him. </p><p>“A car will arrive in thirty minutes.” She states. “Be ready.” </p><p>Before he can say anything else the other end of the line goes dead. He stares at the phone for a moment before setting it down on the table. When he looks at the clock it’s seven thirty. Not late by normal standards, but for something work related he knows this is after hours. He doesn't try to call the number back to gather more information. Instead he gets dressed. He winds up wearing his typical outfit work. The suit that hasn’t been ruined by events. The tie feels constricting and the pants are not as comfortable as the joggers he’s been living in. </p><p>It makes him feel like he has a purpose. That’s something, at least.</p><p>He walks down stairs to the street a few minutes before the thirty minute mark is set to be up. It’s cold but he stands there as if the weather does not bother him. The car arrives right on time and he opens the back seat before getting in. </p><p>There is a driver and Anne sitting there.</p><p>“Ma’am.” He greets as he puts his seatbelt on. Only he’s far more confused than ever. He doesn’t ask any questions. He doesn’t even know what questions he is supposed to be asking. </p><p>“PS Budd.” She returns as her eyes stare out at the road ahead of them. </p><p>He focuses on the scenery that passes them. They leave the city and find themselves in the countryside. He only has more questions and not enough answers as Anne gives him no more information to go by. He keeps his face even and nondescript. The nature of his job has always been to not ask questions and to take things as they come. Emotions have no place at work. </p><p>Finally, they stop outside of an estate. The next house over is far off in the distance. He can make out a few lights but nothing else. He doesn’t move. </p><p>Anne turns and hands him a file. “Take this inside. Do not open it. Someone will be back to pick you up in the morning.” </p><p>David takes the file in his hand as he looks at her. “Ma’am.” He wants to ask why she’s come along to simply leave with no explanation. He doesn’t. Instead he holds onto it as he undoes his seatbelt. </p><p>“The file is confidential.” She answers the question he doesn’t ask. </p><p>David thinks she wants to see if he is crumbling and when he hasn’t he passes a test. “Yes, Ma’am.” He steps out of the car and lets out a soft breath before he approaches the officer standing outside the door. </p><p>“Identification.” </p><p>He pulls out his card before handing it over. The officer inspects it carefully before handing it back. He knocks on the door three knocks, evenly spaced, before David can hear the lock being undone and the door opening. </p><p>“We will inform you when your escort arrives.” </p><p>David only gives a nod of his head before he walks through the threshold. The house has a distinct smell of musk that alerts him to the emptiness it must have been faced with for quite some time. It smells like a house his grandmum would have had. He walks as his nerves gather in the pit of his stomach. His instincts get the better of him once again. He is well aware that something is amiss. <em> What </em>exactly is amiss remains the question. </p><p>It’s when he arrives at the edge of the living room does he feel another person. He knows. He just <em> does </em> . He simply will not allow his mind to entertain a thought so unreal. It can't be real, can it? It’s a figment of his imagination, a hallucination, a dream, <em> something </em>, anything. Except he only drank half a beer and he still hasn’t taken any of the medications the psychiatrist has prescribed him. </p><p>He’s still playing reckless. </p><p>David inhales, trying to be brave even if the thought terrifies him, before he walks in the room.</p><p>He knows, a feeling, deep in his gut, but even so when he sees Julia sitting on the couch as if the last month hasn’t happened he nearly drops the file on the floor. He’s an expert on not giving emotion away and his face remains even no matter he feels a deep sense of betrayal. Longing, too. Love, even. But now he feels a sharp sense of betrayal. He thinks he may just hate her now. </p><p>“David.” She utters as she looks up at him with a soft look, a hopeful one, regretful. </p><p>“Don’t.” His tone is sharp, cold, icy as he walks before her, holding out the file. “From Anne Sampson.” </p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I said <em> don’t </em>.” He doesn’t particularly care about being nice. The last month’s thoughts of wanting one more moment with her are gone from him. He has that moment but now he wants to yell at her. She’s a politician. She will always be a politician. He’s simply an idiot who got into bed with the wrong woman. “You’re supposed to be dead.”</p><p>“About that —”</p><p>David holds up his hand. “Don’t speak.” Once the file is hers he steps back, arms crossing over his chest, torn between a sense of duty and feeling the very real feelings that are within him no matter how much he wants to be with her. “Did you mean any of it?”</p><p>“Of course I did.”</p><p>He doesn’t believe her. Suddenly, his anger is rife as he realizes he is stuck there until the daylight. “Why am I here?”</p><p>“I requested you.” Words spoken as if the answer is obvious, watching him with that calm demeanor she always seems to have. </p><p>“When?”</p><p>“I hardly see how that matters.”</p><p>“Don’t play daft. You may be a lot of things,” not all of his thoughts are kind as he stands there, “but daft is not one of them.” </p><p>“Four days ago.”</p><p>He remains quiet, watching her. It's the first time since her death that he has really seen her. She looks tired. Her hair is braided back out of her face. He doesn't think he's ever seen her hair up. She's not wearing any makeup. He almost asks if she's been sleeping. His eyes travel down her torso. She's thinner. Even hidden behind the casual wear he can see she's thinner.</p><p>What were her injuries? Does she have nightmares? Has Sampson briefed her entirely or is she still kept in the dark like he has been? </p><p>He cares. No matter how hard he tries not to care he still does. He wants to know her injuries and how she survived. Does she have scars? Does Roger know she's alive? Though that one is purely selfish of him. He wants her ex-husband nowhere near her. He hopes her mum does know. </p><p>“So you didn’t mean it at all," is what he settles on in that detached manner that makes him seem colder than he feels. It's difficult for him to remain as uncaring as he wants her to think.</p><p>“David.” She’s soft, pleading almost, a sound that is so unlike her. </p><p>“Shut up.” He sees the way she straightens, her face hardening all her own. He’s crossing a line. He has never spoken to her in such a manner, nor is she deserving of such a harshness. He isn’t being professional right now. If he is to get through his he has to act like a professional and not a scorned lover. He is scorned but he has a job to do. “<em> Ma’am. </em>” </p><p>“Are you willing to listen now?” She asks, putting on her own professional demeanor. </p><p>“Yes, Ma’am.” </p><p>“After the attack it was determined that no one be privy to my location while I recovered.” She stands, moving closer to him. “They were being cautious as they believed you to be involved.”</p><p>As David watches her he can see how she isn’t fully healed. She moves slowly, a slight limp, pain over her features even if she isn’t letting it be known the extent of her injuries. He can see them as she moves. It softens him, somewhat. He doesn’t allow his thoughts to be written across his features. “I would never hurt you.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“You know now or you knew then?”</p><p>She remains quiet for a moment, her steely gaze melting. “I always knew, David.” </p><p>David steps back just as she reaches out to touch him. He needs to keep a clear mind and if she touches him he will forgive her, forget this, and slip into a grateful shell of himself. He isn’t ready for that. </p><p>“After they cleared you I was informed you were unavailable.” </p><p>“How much do you know?” A question he is fearful to ask. There’s shame mixed in with the guilt. He worries she will see him the way Vicky sees him. He pretends not to notice how she looks at him when he picks up the kids. He’s not as broken and fragile as she thinks. If Julia gives him that same look, with those same thoughts, he isn’t certain he will be able to take the pity. </p><p>“I was told you chose to take a vacation.”</p><p>He nods, not confirming nor denying. </p><p>“I have been recovering slowly. I only put in the request four days ago because that is when I have been returning to feeling as if I can work.” </p><p>“You aren’t the Home Secretary. You are <em> dead </em>.” There are so many things he wants to say, but he says nothing else. </p><p>“It is quite complicated.” </p><p>“You know best, Ma’am.” </p><p>Julia moves to sit down in the seat nearest to him, a sigh falling from her lips, her eyes shut as she composes herself. “I did not want to hurt you.” </p><p>“You did.” He says softly. He closes his eyes as he recounts all of the events that have taken over his life. Perhaps she doesn’t know about the gun he cocked to the side of his head, but she has to know of the bomb strapped to his chest. Everyone in the country knows. He’s certain it’s made international news. She <em> has </em>to know. He doesn’t bring it up even as he is dying to. He wants to lash out. Instead he walks to the other room. He needs a moment. He needs to breathe.</p><p>Suddenly, the guilt hits him again. </p><p>David slumps against the wall, sinking down until he is sitting on the floor, his head in his hands. He will not allow the emotion to overtake him. Not here. Not now. He refuses to cry. He tried to kill himself and she isn’t even dead. What if he had succeeded? For nothing? He isn’t well. He knows that. The time off they have forced on him is better, too. Is he meant to be her PPO again? Is that the point of this? Or is he to know she is alive because of some other reason? </p><p>“David.” She says softly as she walks into the hallway. “I cannot sit next to you so you are going to have to stand.” </p><p>His desire to remain unemotional is not working in his favor. Still, he does not stand. Instead he only looks up at her. He hasn’t teared up so he takes that as a positive sign he is still in control. “I tried to kill myself.” He doesn't want to tell her. Something compels him to do so. As if he needs her to know the turmoil this has brought him, for her to understand. “It was a blank round that I didn’t know was blank.” He shifts his gaze from her. He can’t look at her as he tells her this. David doesn’t want nor need her pity. “Sometimes I still want to kill myself. I won’t do that to my kids." Another pause as he tries his best to collect his wavering voice. "I'm in therapy."</p><p>He wishes he could be this honest with his therapist, but something about her there...it makes him feel like he can speak. He shouldn’t. He wants to run out the front door. </p><p>“Stand up, David.” </p><p>“No.” He whispers. It’s the only control he has as he sniffles, trying to remain cool, calm, and collected. His world is turned upside down again. <em>Always</em>. She shifts him so much he doesn’t know what to do. It's such an odd experience for him. The bloody <em>Home</em> <em>Secretary</em> has ruined him. He loves her. Not someone he met in the office or in a pub, but someone whose every move is public. He has no doubt she desires to be the prime minister. How does he even fit in that?</p><p>He's a normal guy, with a normal family, and a normal job. He isn't a government official who aims to live life in the public eye. He's really mucked that up, hasn't he? “Don’t look at me like that.” </p><p>“You haven’t looked at me to know how I am looking at you.” She counters as she shifts closer, bracing herself against the wall. “Do not make me come down there, David. I will but I will find myself quite cross with you."</p><p>After a moment he turns his head to look up at her, eyes glossy, so far from his professional demeanor. He pushes himself up so he is standing looking at her. When her arms wrap around him he doesn’t respond immediately. He stands stiff, unyielding, until his arms around her, burying his face in the curve of her neck. </p><p>There are no words to express how being there with her brings him relief. He is still angry, beyond angry, but for a moment he can take the comfort she offers him. </p><p>“I would never have agreed to you not knowing had I thought you would have done something like that.” </p><p>He doesn’t believe her, but he still holds onto her. He wants to sob right there in her embrace, to let her comfort him, but he doesn't.  He knows she has been through a trauma, too. He may be the one dealing with the fallout of her death, but she is the one on the receiving end of a bomb. He's being selfish in not asking her the questions. He's too close to the edge to handle much more. </p><p>When they untangle he creates the distance between them once more, looking at her, putting the cold, hardened look back on his face. It's too much. It's all just too much.</p><p>“Don’t look at me like that.” She speaks softly. </p><p>“Why am I here?” </p><p>“I needed you to know I’m alive.”</p><p>“Well, I do.” He takes another step back as the distance grows wider. “You will have a new PPO.”</p><p>“Yes.” Julia tells him. “I meant what I said. I want this to be our choice.”</p><p>“And if I never want to see you again?” He can't imagine never seeing her again, but she doesn't know that. </p><p>The hurt is written all over her face. “I ask you to keep discretion.” </p><p>“I won’t tell.” He promises. “I need time.” </p><p>He can't think properly when she's standing there in an all too fragile state. He needs to think about everything and sort himself out. He's no good to anyone. There's a very real fear he will choke her in her sleep because of the nightmares. He can't hurt her more than he already has. </p><p>Letting her think he hates her is almost a mercy. Or maybe that's just how he chooses to justify the way she looks resigned to this. They've been through a lot in such a short period of time. </p><p>Julia nods, walking past him, turning around only briefly. “I am sorry for the pain you’ve experienced. Now and in Helmand. You aren’t alone in your suffering. I wish you would see that.” </p><p>David doesn’t look at her. Only even dares to move as she slips off into a room, the door closing behind her. </p><p>He somehow feels more lost than when she was dead. </p><p>David doesn't sleep. He may not be her PPO anymore but that doesn't stop him from standing guard as if he is. He sits on the couch he found her on earlier. He flips through the magazine on the table, looks through the collection of books, and does everything in his power not to knock on her bedroom door. </p><p>He knows where it will lead and he still needs to process everything. </p><p>"Your car is here." </p><p>He glances up to see the man waiting on him. He nods. The sun is barely rising and it's been somehow the longest yet shortest night in a while. The longest night belongs to her in the hospital. </p><p>He tries not to think about that. </p><p>He rises, tossing the magazine back on the coffee table, before following the officer out the front door. There's a brief moment where he turns his head down the hall to see her standing there. He doesn't say anything. Neither does she. </p><p>Instead he walks out the front door not knowing when he'll see her again. </p><p>He needs time. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a href="http://laurelsalexis.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> if you wanna chit chat.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, my friends! The response to chapter one was amazing and I greatly appreciate how dedicated this fandom is even though we only got 6 episodes and Jed ruined everything over two years ago. I mentioned in chapter one it was essentially canon except for Julia dying, but I lied. There are small canon divergences in here that lead into our plot for this fic. </p><p>Hope you enjoy xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>David is a people person. He doesn't always seem like it, especially lately, but he can easily converse with just about anyone. He's never been the standoffish dad that doesn't talk to the other parents. That feature of his has only really come into play in the past few weeks. His job isn't a secret and he's seen in a few pictures with Julia in the paper. The other parents have seen them as well, and he's being treated with kid gloves. It's the reason why he sits in the far off corner as Charlie shows him all his favorite dinosaurs in the book he's checked out from the library. He's proud when his son can say most of the complicated names, even if his own knowledge on dinosaurs is limited at best. At least he’s getting better with his reading and wants to look through books instead of crying at the mere thought. </p><p>"I want a dinosaur cake for my birthday." Charlie says as he flips the page of the book.</p><p>"Your birthday isn't for three months, bud. You might change your mind."</p><p>"I won't." He states before he goes back to talking about the stegosaurus. </p><p>He’s content listening to his son as Ella follows the instruction with ease. It’s only when he sees Linda out of the corner of his eye, approaching him, he knows he is in trouble. </p><p>"Hi, <em>Sergeant</em>." She smiles as her hand rests on her son’s shoulder. </p><p>"You can call me David." His reply is automatic. For all the time he’s known her she always calls him that. </p><p>She waves her hand before she directs the boys to the other area where a few of the kids are playing together. Just like he thought, <em> trouble</em>. She wants to talk to him about something he probably doesn’t want to talk about, but with the kids playing amongst themselves he won’t have any choice. She’s clever like that. The last time they spoke for over an hour about the war and he really almost committed murder right then and there. Hints aren’t her strong suit. </p><p>"Did you know?" She asks as she sits a little too close, speaking a little too casually. </p><p>Linda is always a little too <em> everything</em>. For the first few months when he was still trying to make a go of his marriage with Vicky he thought she was hitting on him. She wasn’t. She’s just a bit too much and her husband of fifteen years is a patron saint. "Know what?" He eventually manages to get out as he glances over at her with a raised eyebrow.</p><p><em>"David</em>." She smiles, using his given name for the first time ever. "You <em> know</em>."</p><p>His poker face remains in place as he turns to her entirely. The look upon her face says eager for details. For a moment he thinks she is trying to gossip about Carla, who is certainly having an affair with her <em> female </em>neighbor, or Paul who has a past as a sniper. Until she scoots in again. </p><p>“You <em> had </em>to know.” </p><p>“Out with it, Linda.” He feels impatient as he needs this conversation to be over so he can go back to sulking. David is very much aware how sour his mood is now that he knows Julia is alive. There is so much he wishes to say to her, but to go back like a dog with his tail between his legs is not something he is emotionally ready to handle. <em> She </em>isn’t something he is emotionally ready to handle. </p><p>For too long she doesn’t say anything, but rather pulls her phone from her pocket. Another moment and she practically shoves the device in his hands. “You worked for her, correct?” She asks knowing full well the answer. “You are still employed with the police department after the...<em> incident</em>?” Her voice drops to nothing more than a mere whisper. “Last time I saw Vick she said you were.”</p><p>“Aye.” He replies with a singular nod, but truth to be told he’s tuned her out entirely. Linda doesn’t matter now. Not as he reads every headline from BBC to CNN to Fox News. They all say the same thing: an inside source has named Julia Montague to be alive and recovering in a private facility for her own protection after there were multiple threats on her life. If one can call a pristine estate out in the countryside a private facility. He also hasn’t been made aware of any additional threats to her life. He is out of the loop entirely, except for the fact that she is very much alive. “I had no idea.” He shrugs as if the news is casual just as he hands the phone back to her. “I’m on vacation.” </p><p>"Mm," she takes the phone back, leaning towards him, "I never took you for a tory."</p><p>"I'm not." He folds his arms against his chest, feeling insulted suddenly. "It's just a <em> job</em>."</p><p>He really doesn't want to talk about this with her. She's too nosy and he's been on the receiving end of a lot of that since Ella begged for this to be <em> their </em> thing. He knows too much about people he doesn't want to. But now, he finds himself being the one. Politics haven't played into his relationship, or lack thereof, with Julia. He doesn't think anyone would believe him. How do you look past someone with such different and sharp ideals than your own?</p><p>He would never vote for her. Fucking her was fine. Loving her also fine. He doesn't try to understand it. Or explain it. He has no intention of ever explaining it to anyone, especially Linda.</p><p>"It's probably not even true." He tells her after a moment so he can seem indifferent. It is true. That’s another thought racing through his mind...how true it all is. What does it mean for her? What does it mean for her career? For her life? For <em> them</em>, even? It is all he can think about. He wants Julia to be sitting at his side, even if the thought of her sitting there watching a bunch of school children dance poorly makes him laugh, certainly with her need for an armed guard. </p><p>He does wonder what she will think of his kids, just as he wonders what they will think of her. Those parts of his life haven’t collided. They will soon. They have to. It’s <em> inevitable</em>. </p><p>Just as seeking her out once more is inevitable. </p><p>Linda drops the conversation about Julia when it’s clear she isn’t getting any inside knowledge. Instead she bores him with mundane gossip and he’s not certain when he became the one to talk to about these things. He doesn’t share much and he doesn’t tell anyone what she tells him. Before he and Vicky would laugh about the happenings around them. Telling an empty bottle of beer the stories parenthood brings doesn’t seem amusing. Most of his life isn’t amusing. </p><p>He’s grateful when Ella runs up to him with Charlie and they declare they are ready to go seeing as they are starving. He bids his farewell to Linda and hopes he can arm himself with Paul next week so they can pretend they are in a conversation about something far too important to have her interrupt. After a quick bite to eat he drops them off with Vicky, only to have her standing at the front door with that look on her face.</p><p>He knows that look.</p><p>“When did you find out?” She asks with concern laced in her voice as she shuffles both kids inside, barking orders for them to get ready for bed since it is getting late. </p><p>“Monday night.” There is no lie that comes from him. Only the truth that he has known. “They took me to see her.” </p><p>David shoves his hands in his pockets as he stands there. As much as he dislikes speaking of her boyfriend with her the same can be said for discussing Julia. Certainly as he has no real answers as to the dynamic between them or if he is to even discuss her with Vicky at all. It’s a simple sign that he is moving on. He’ll always love the woman standing before him, but it’s been a long time coming for them to go their separate ways. He sees that clearly now. Even if Julia never came into his life their marriage was never to survive. </p><p>They were young when they got married and just as young when she got pregnant with Ella. War changed them both. He isn’t naïve to that. It’s been her doing the majority of the child rearing as he was off nearly getting himself killed. His recovery from the incident that caused scars to line his back wasn’t easy, just as him trying to recover from the PTSD he has now it isn’t easy. It’s not her burden to shoulder. It’s his. He needs to sort this out. </p><p>Even in regards to Julia he needs to sort himself out before giving it a proper go with her. She deserves that much. </p><p>“Are you okay?” She almost reaches out to touch him, only to put her hands next to her side. </p><p>“Yeah, I'm good." He lies now. Not a total lie, because he is good, <em> somewhat</em>. She is alive and that's made his life better. He still probably won't sleep tonight and the thought of eating anything sucks just as much. He doesn't want to talk about it with her, though. Or his therapist. </p><p>The thought constantly echoing in his head ever since he found out she was alive that he wants to talk to her. </p><p>"I'm better." When he notices she doesn't believe him. "I'll be by Friday to pick the kids up for the weekend."</p><p>"Goodbye, Dave."</p><p>There’s no argument between them or pushing. Instead she accepts his lie and he walks back off to the car without fighting for a second chance, another chat, another anything. He is improving in a lot of ways and others he is the same. </p><p>He knows he can be a bit <em> obsessive</em>. It starts as trying to save his marriage, only to turn to finding out the truth about who killed Julia, to now finding out <em> where </em>she is. </p><p>It’s that endeavor where he decides Anne Sampson hates him. She stonewalls him at every turn and mutters something about needing to keep Julia safe, along with direct orders from his boss, since she definitely is not it. </p><p>So, he does what any of them would do and uses her own past against her. </p><p>“Does Julia know that you were the one working with Craddock and spying on her?” He asks in an all too casual tone and the use of Julia gives away this is personal. He swears he can hear her annoyance without her saying anything through the line. </p><p>“<em>Careful</em>.” She warns. “I had as much to do with the ill placed bomb as you did.” </p><p>He rests back against the driver’s seat. “She doesn’t know that. I don’t think she’ll like it much if she knew you and Craddock spied on her together or that you wanted to stop her for being dangerous.”</p><p>“She <em> is </em> dangerous.” Anne pauses. “Your relationship with her is too personal. You call her <em> Julia</em>.”</p><p>“I’m not her PPO anymore.”</p><p>“I will see to that.” </p><p>“You don’t have to.” He knows that she will stop him at every corner if she makes it her mission. Instead he remains quiet. “If you really want to stop her then use me.” He hates himself briefly for that. He didn’t like spying on her the first time, kept things from them, and he will not like it any more now. Except he knows what he is doing now and he’s not going to allow them to paint him as the one who killed her. Whatever the outcome he’s going to be calling the shots. “She’s not going to trust anyone.” Except him. He doesn’t trust anyone <em> except </em>her. </p><p>“I don’t trust you.” She finally tells him after too long a silence. </p><p>“Nor do I trust you.” He shrugs even though she can’t see him. </p><p>“The Foreign Secretary is in need of a new PPO. I will inform your new superior of your desire to remain in position.” </p><p>“Ma’am.” </p><p>With that Anne <em> does </em> divulge the hotel in which Julia is staying. He drives there almost mindlessly as he thinks of the mess he’s creating now, <em> again</em>. But he’ll do it for her. He has a bit of a blind spot when it comes to Julia and eventually he will need to face that fact. Now he just needs to see her and talk to her. </p><p>He just needs <em> her</em>. </p><p>By the time he stops outside of her hotel he feels empty. A brief thought comes to his mind before he arrives back at the hotel a little while later. The guards let him pass after his name and identification are given and he’s a little surprised Anne hasn’t pulled a power play on him by denying him then and there. </p><p>He ignores that nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach as he rides the lift that feels if it is taking forever. </p><p>
  <em> And if I never want to see you again?  </em>
</p><p>They are now words he has come to regret. They were merely spoken to wound and for as many things as he can be he is not intentionally hurtful. All the hurt he has caused her has been accidental. He desperately does not think about his hands around her throat. It’s a memory he has lived with for far too long thinking that’s their last night together. Suddenly, he feels as if he has made a mistake. Perhaps he should take the lift back down and settle in his car. It takes all of his strength to step off before the doors close and make the winding path down the hotel hallway until he has found the door that the piece of paper in his hand says is hers. </p><p>
  <em> “Don’t fuck this up, David.” The disdain in Anne’s voice is clear as she steps from behind her desk. “I need you to find that kompromat.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Still haven’t recovered it, Ma’am?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Find it.” She orders, coming to stand in front of him. “Think with your head, not your cock.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ma’am.”  </em>
</p><p>He’s doing his best to not think at all as he knocks on the door. He knows exactly where the kompromat is. Buried in a place they will not find it so easily. It’s one of the pieces they are missing. Most threads have been wrapped up, but he still does not understand the entire plot. Did Roger and Mike Travis really want party unity? That her making a bid for leadership was truly that detrimental? In ways he can understand Rob. Rejection stings. He can’t say he wants to ever ruin Allen’s life so he has something going for him. At least he’s better than Rob.</p><p>It doesn’t make sense. Why ruin someone for a Prime Minister? Even <em> that </em>one? David holds no positive thoughts on the man, not after the information he scanned through. He needs to find Charlotte Foxfield. Another night. </p><p>Now he looks at Julia as she opens the door. </p><p>"Peace offering?" He holds up the food and the bottle of wine he knows she prefers. </p><p>"Come in." Julia takes the bottle of wine and examines it carefully. </p><p>He moves past her and sets the food down on the table. There’s a desire to tell her everything but he doesn’t. He is positive there are bugs all over this place and he is tired of having his every word and move tracked. As his eyes trail over to her she looks more like herself, the Julia that the public knows. She is wearing blue trousers and a silk blouse that he thinks he’s seen her wear in a speech before. Always <em> regal</em>. Even her walk is more herself. She still walks with the history of an injury but he can see the way her leg moves, she is trying very hard to seem alright. He’s been there with his own recovery. Always doing his best to pretend he’s fine. </p><p>“You’re staring.” She speaks after a moment as she sets the wine down. “I thought you had no desire to see me again.” </p><p>David takes the food out as he tries to forget that moment. “I didn’t handle my anger well.” He looks at her, allowing himself to truly look at her. “You look nice.” </p><p>“Thank you.” She smiles before turning. “Do you want a drink?” </p><p>“Yeah, I’ll take one.” </p><p>Julia comes by with two glasses holding something stronger than wine. He takes it and recognizes the scent of the bourbon with ease. If any situation calls for something stronger it’s this one. “How are you feeling?” </p><p>“Better.” The answer is simple as she takes a sip of her drink. “I will feel better when all this is squared away.” </p><p>“They know who did it.” </p><p>“I read the report.” Her tone is harsher now, setting the glass down upon the table sharply. “The intent was to humiliate me. Instead I was blown to bits.” </p><p>David says nothing as he pushes the food around in the container for a moment. She’s always been intense and devoted to her cause, but he can sense there’s more now. “Not quite to bits.” </p><p>Her lips curve up, just slightly. “I suppose not.” </p><p>“We should have seen it.” Suddenly the food doesn’t interest him as he grabs the glass, holding onto it tightly. Just because it’s not the briefcase that contained the bomb doesn’t mean he will never not feel guilt for it being under the stage. They should have done a better sweep. That’s not his job. His job is to keep her safe, not to walk around the room looking for hidden bombs. That means nothing to him knowing he couldn’t keep her safe. It’s all twisted in his mind like tangled cords.</p><p>“I don’t blame you.” She whispers. “You didn’t do it.” </p><p>“You should.” He downs the entire glass before leaning back in his seat across from her. “It’s my job to protect you.”</p><p>"<em>Was</em>." She corrects. “It <em> was </em>your job, but you cannot protect me from everything, David.”</p><p>“I don't need to be your PPO to want to keep you safe.” Even now he wants nothing more than to stay by her side always. He doesn’t trust another PPO to keep her safe, not when he did everything he could to keep her safe at a far deeper level than anything anyone will feel for her. </p><p>"How are your children?” She cuts into his thoughts. </p><p>The subject change is obvious and for a moment he thinks of questioning her on it. Things are too fragile for that. “Charlie is doing well at that school. He has a new obsession with dinosaurs. Thank you.”</p><p>"You're welcome."</p><p>Another silence settles between them as they consume their fish and chips. He wants another drink to make this bearable without him spilling every thought upon his mind, but he needs to drive home so he settles on water. “You intend to be Prime Minister.”</p><p>"That was always the plan."</p><p>“This won’t work.” He doesn’t look at her as he says it. Looking at her has proven difficult even though the sole reason he goes there is to look at her. “You can’t be shagging your PPO.” </p><p>“Are you asking me to choose?” She inquires before popping the chip into her mouth.</p><p>"<em>No</em>." He has accepted her power and her control. He likes it, even. "The public will." It's a fact he gives her as he shrugs his shoulders. "You know it as well as I do. Even if they can get past it, they aren't getting past <em> me </em> ." He is innocent and has been cleared. That doesn't mean people like his job or his past or distaste for war as she runs on a conservative platform. Sometimes he doesn't understand how they work with such differences. They just <em> do </em>.</p><p><em> Did</em>. There is nothing between them.</p><p>"Did you come here to break up with me?"</p><p>"No." He doesn't point out they aren't together and he can't break up with her. Instead he shoves the last chip in his mouth to give him a moment to think this through. "I want you to have everything." </p><p>"I will." She states, watching him. “If you do not wish to be by my side I am capable of handling that, David. You don’t need to use the excuse of public perception. I was well aware what public perception would be that day. I am no less aware of it now that I have had a month to think and <em> wallow </em>.” </p><p>David can feel the irritation coming from her. His instinct is to comfort her. He thinks of reaching over, of moving to sit next to her, of doing anything but remaining standoffish.</p><p>“Neither of us are in any condition to be together.” She admits the truth softly before he can say anything in reply. </p><p>“No, we aren’t.” An agreement as he looks up to watch her. They are on even footing now and he hates that. He doesn’t wish for her to experience the shit in his mind constantly. </p><p>He tidies up before she walks him to the door. He doesn’t say anything in his mind. Instead they linger at the door as they watch one another. The easiness of before is gone. It’s easy and comfortable to be there, yes, but he doesn’t know what to anticipate. He wants to kiss her. He doesn’t. He wants to be with her when they can settle on it being right and not making a right proper mess of things. </p><p>She reaches for his hand, holding it in her own. </p><p>Powerless. </p><p>“Don’t.” The words are all too soft as she tugs him closer. His eyes bear into hers as he feels her breath against him. It’s too close for him to have a clear mind. His eyes close and he can see her body in the carnage. Or his hands wrapped around her throat. He has nightmares about accidentally killing her. His forehead rests against her own as he inhales her scent, their finger interlocking. </p><p>He feels closer to her now than he ever has before. </p><p>"If you kiss me I won't stop." He tells her. </p><p>"I know." She doesn't move but only holds onto him. "We have too much history."</p><p>"And not enough."</p><p>It feels as if they move closer together. His body is firmly against her own as he reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear. He misses her more than he can express through words. He wants to be lost beneath the sheets talking about everything and nothing. He wants to know every part of her. What was her childhood like? What are her parents like? He can google her career but he can’t google <em> her</em>.</p><p>If only they hand the ability to whisk away to a foreign land to never be bothered. He will never leave his kids, and she will not leave her chance at what she’s been reaching for behind. They are tied to the lives they have crafted for themselves while trying to find a way to be together. </p><p>They will find it. </p><p>"I can't." He breathes before he does something else. </p><p>"I know."</p><p>He untangles himself from her no matter how much he wishes not to. He loves her too much to allow them to fall into the moment and deal with everything else later. He’s not as upset with her anymore. He tries but she’s alive in his arms. He can process the rest later. Or more realistically he’s pushing it down because she’s <em> here</em>. It will come back to him later. </p><p>David glances back at her one last time before he walks out the door feeling the full emotional weight of being there. His hand quickly brushes the tear sliding down his cheek. </p><p>He’s never been so undone by a woman.</p><hr/><p>True to Anne’s word he finds himself meeting with the new CSI. Her name is Samantha Miller and he doesn’t trust her. He wonders if he will ever be able to rust any of them ever again or if this is how the political world looks. He votes and has his own opinions, but never once has he thought of running for any sort of office. He’s not naïve enough to think that the police don’t have their hand in that. The very nature of their lives is political.</p><p>She is nice enough, though. Anything he can expect from a CO. </p><p>“Do you feel ready?” She asks as she flips through the pages of his file, looking up at him. </p><p>“Yes, Ma’am.” </p><p>She is silent for a moment. “You will need to continue your sessions.”</p><p>“Of course, Ma’am.” </p><p>She closes the file and clasps her hand in front of her on the desk. “You will be assigned to Noah Roberts, the Foreign Secretary.” </p><p>“Ma’am.” </p><p>He takes his leave. He wonders how close she and Anne are. He doesn’t push it, nor does he make a move to see her. He doesn’t need the questioning of his techniques. Instead he moves to the job where he meets the Foreign Secretary. He is an unremarkable man in a remarkable position. Another conservative. This one he has no interest in getting close to. </p><p>The inner workings of politics have never interested him so he falls into the ease of his job.</p><p>He stands. He watches. He waits. </p><p>David takes in the little details of the office around him. One of the women in the office always takes a bathroom break at the same time every single day. Another comes in with a cup of coffee and a hard boiled egg, which he thinks cannot taste good. Eggs have never been his favorite, though he will eat just about anything. </p><p>The Foreign Secretary himself does not have many mundane habits other than the cuppa he always takes the moment he arrives in the office. Without terrorism threats and pulls for leadership he can say the job itself is redundant. That’s how it was when he was on previous assignments. His job brings about a certain level of...<em> boredom</em>. He stands around like a statue and waits for most, if not all of, his day. He makes certain no one sees the Foreign Secretary without cause. The few nights he is there with him he goes home and sleeps from the sheer exhaustion of doing nothing. </p><p>Nothing is mentally draining.</p><p>Or maybe the mentally draining part is that his mind is still a mess. His most recent therapy session does nothing for him. He still refuses to discuss Julia in any meaningful manner and instead focuses on the war. The war bothers him. It always will. But the events of the last couple of months have only made him <em> worse</em>. </p><p>He’s been counting down the moments until he would see Julia again. It’s in passing. There is a cabinet meeting with the Prime Minister and he sees her as she talks with another. She is in her professional setting. </p><p>To say it’s been easy since she and the Prime Minister came out with a joint statement that it was orchestrated for her own protection as they took down another terrorist cell is nothing more than a lie. He sees some people call for stronger immigration policies and others who think the whole thing is a farce. Even too nosy Linda takes her time to tell him her thoughts on the entire thing as if he has her ear and informs her of public opinion. He smiles politely and forgets most of what she says the minute they part. </p><p>RIPA-18 is still on the table, even more so now. The media is in an uproar and the protests have only grown louder. He hates it. It makes everything more difficult. It’s not simply protecting the Foreign Secretary. It’s the fact that he has to protect the man and he has to do everything in his power to not worry that Julia is going to be a target again.</p><p>She sees him when she walks out of the room and she is speaking with Noah. He blinks and keeps his features stilled as if he is seeing someone who does not mean as much to her as she does. Instead he falls in line with his principal and pretends he doesn’t hear the way she loses her train of thought for a moment before going on about the bill in question. </p><p>The bill is shit is what he wants to tell them both, but he doesn’t. He remains silent instead.</p><p>When they decide to have lunch David considers it a personal slight against him. It isn’t. Not when Noah suggests it and Julia has no reason to deny him. He and her new PPO sit at a table far off from the others. His gaze is planted on her as he sits there with his hands clasped in front of him with Olivia. </p><p>He’s met her a few times in the office. They haven’t really had much of a chance to work together. </p><p>“How is it going?” He asks as he takes in the room around them. He would much prefer if they didn’t sit so close to the window but he knows a lost argument when he sees one so he is against the glass. “She can be —”</p><p>“Difficult.” Olivia answers with a small smile. “I’m used to working with difficult principals.” </p><p>David nods. </p><p>“Can I ask you a question?” </p><p>“Go for it.” He is weary. He focuses on her for a second longer than he should before scanning for threats once more. </p><p>She shifts in her seat before she scans the room herself, turning her head to check on Julia, before she settles on him once more. “Are you having an affair with Anne Sampson?”</p><p>“— <em> what</em>?” He can’t help himself as he lets out a snort. “No. What made you think that?”</p><p>“Peter —”</p><p>“Who you are having an affair with.”</p><p>“A <em> relationship</em>.” She corrects. “Noticed you go to her office a lot. She isn’t our boss so he thought...” </p><p>David resists the urge to roll his eyes. At least no one has seemed to have caught onto his past with Julia or why he seems so invested in her well being. “It’s professional. She has some questions regarding the bombing and some missing files from before we knew the Home Secretary was alive.” </p><p>“I knew he was full of it. I had to ask.” </p><p>David doesn’t push it since he doesn’t want anyone to catch onto his feelings for Julia. It does strike him as interesting that with all the corruption uncovered with Craddock that people don’t think he’s up to no good, just that he’s screwing someone he shouldn’t be. </p><p>Finally, Noah rises as he decides to take his leave and David goes with him. He briefly glances at Julia before shifting his gaze to his principal. </p><p>Nothing gets in the way of his job.</p><hr/><p>As David turns in his gun for the night he is not much in a rush to return to his flat. Both kids have come down with the flu and Vicky suggests they stay home with her since she isn’t feeling well either and there’s no use in getting him sick. Instead she tells him they can overnight during the week when they are feeling better. He agrees and finds the idea of a free weekend <em> daunting </em>. What is he meant to do with no work and no kids? </p><p>He thinks of stopping by the pub but changes his mind. Instead he grabs some quick takeaway before heading to his flat and unwinding for the night. He eats, he showers, and then it’s only half past seven. </p><p>Thoughts of Julia pop into his mind but he ignores them. Just as he ignores the war in his mind. He thinks of happier moments. Like when Charlie first learned to walk and he came running to David or how <em> dad </em>was Ella’s first word. Briefly, he thinks of reading more and walks over to the few books he’s picked up only to leave them on the shelf unread. He frowns once he realizes he doesn’t have the attention span to read the back cover let alone an entire book. </p><p>He’s rethinking his desire to not go to the pub when his phone rings. He assumes it’s the kids saying goodnight to him, but the number on the other side is blocked, giving him a moment of pause. </p><p>“Budd?” He answers quietly, sitting down on the arm of the couch. His face moves from curiosity to understanding to determination. “Yeah, okay, I’ll be there.” </p><p>He changes quickly before grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair and going out the door. He knows the way without even thinking as he drives down the quiet roads with his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. </p><p>The call from Julia is nothing he expects. She asks him to come by as she has something she wants to do. He isn’t offered any more details. Only that she wishes to do something without having her PPO with her. There’s a certain <em> pleading </em>in her voice he can still hear as he drives. </p><p>When he arrives there is no one around. It’s quiet and cool with the wind picking up around him. He doesn’t go upstairs as she instructs him not to. Rather he waits for her to come down, even if every instinct in his body tells him she should have someone with her at all times. He even has his all too illegal weapon tucked against his side just in case. </p><p>Julia doesn’t strike him as the type to walk him straight into the line of fire, but he thrives on being prepared. </p><p>“As your former PPO I advise you this is a bad idea.” He says, standing against the car, arms across his chest. </p><p>“As my former PPO I shall inform you I am declined to act against your judgement.” She replies with ease, stopping before him. “Truthfully, I was unsure if you would accept my call or come here.”</p><p>“I’ll always be there for you when you need it.” The thought of Olivia taking her on mysterious night drives to unknown locations for curious dealings causes his nose to twitch up in distaste. A bit of jealousy, there. It sneaks up on him when it shouldn’t. </p><p>She tilts her head, studying him for a moment. “Do you promise?”</p><p>“I promise.” </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>David drives quietly as the darkness falls over them. They haven't said much of anything since they got in the car an hour ago. She only speaks to give him directions. Otherwise she is silent. It slightly unnerves him. He’s asked a few times already about where exactly they are going. She’s very good at not sharing any details with him unless she wants to. Clearly, she doesn’t. His fingers tap against the steering wheel as he dreams of taking a few different turns to Scotland where his mum still lives. The thought makes him nervous. What will she think of his life, his home? The way he grew up is different from the way she grew up that much is certain. He pushes the thoughts out of his mind just as quickly as they come since it’s clear he is not sneaking her off to Scotland for some romantic tryst where they forget their lives for a few days. </p>
<p><em>One</em> <em>day</em>. </p>
<p>“Turn left.” She instructs casually, not daring to look over at him, rather keeping her eyes on the road ahead of them.</p>
<p>He turns left as he continues his tapping on the rim of the steering wheel. He has to keep his mind focused so he doesn’t look over at her even though he wants to. He is no master of self control around her. He manages to succeed as they take two more right turns before descending upon the long, winding road that seems as if it is not to end. His mouth opens to ask where they are going once more, but he closes it just as quickly. She isn’t in the mood to tell him or speak to him. It’s a silence that is both uncomfortable and comfortable as even the radio is not playing to fill the empty silence around them. </p>
<p>She rolls down the window as the breeze flows through the car and kills the rising heat he feels between them. An undeniable chemistry that has him <em> aching </em> to be hers again. He feels so helpless around her on occasion. As if she has all the power and he has none when there is nothing about that which is true. It’s him putting the wall between the two of them and making it so nothing can happen as the fear continues to drive his every move.</p>
<p>He’s never been so afraid in his entire life. Not from the potential relationship between the two of them but everything. <em> Anxiety</em>, he wagers. Another thing he needs to get a grip on before he can feel normal and human. </p>
<p>“It’s the home at the end.” She interrupts his thoughts as she points out the window. </p>
<p>He shifts his gaze to her briefly before he looks at the home in question. It’s nice, but still modest. <em>Relatively</em>. It’s still nicer than anything he’s ever been known to live in. He parks the car in the driveaway. She gets out and he stays put, unsure of whether or not to follow. She still hasn’t given him any direction or why exactly they drove all this way to home that doesn’t seem to have any occupants in it. </p>
<p>"Are you coming?" She calls out to him before she takes the key out from beneath a ceramic frog.</p>
<p>As he gets out of the car he vaguely has a feeling of breaking and entering. Unfortunately for him, he always likes a bit of danger and perhaps the sense of doing something he shouldn't with the <em> Home Secretary </em> has been appealing to him since their first night. </p>
<p>When he enters the house it holds a similar smell to the safe house that his nose twitches. Clearly vacant and unused, something the thin layer of dust only seems to confirm for him as he takes a quick glance around once Julia switches the lamp on the end table on. He doesn’t follow her as she sneaks off into another room. Instead David studies the grand table that is lined with place settings. It’s peculiar, though he can gather this is someone Julia knows other than her simply breaking and entering into a home with no real thought. </p>
<p>He glances out the window as the moonlight allows him to see the outline of the property. Lots of land. Nothing like living in London where they feel as if they are on top of one another. He hears the happenings of his neighbors just a bit too often. </p>
<p>"This is my grandmother's home." Julia stands next to him, gazing out the window. "When I was a little girl she had horses."</p>
<p><em> Of course she did</em>. He turns to look at her and still finds himself not understanding the <em> why </em>of them being there. </p>
<p>"She's dead. As is my horse. As I should be."</p>
<p>"Hey," he reaches out for her, placing his hand over the arms that are crossed in front of her, "you <em> aren't </em>dead, Julia. That's what matters."</p>
<p>"I can't sleep, David." She looks directly at him as she says it. “I’m so tired.” </p>
<p>His heart breaks for her. That suffering is something he knows all too well. “Neither can I.” He is all too aware of his touch on her, how they are standing closer than he thinks they should be, watching her without saying much at all. As if their eyes say everything that needs to be said. “Sleep is overrated.” Words spoken in an attempt to lighten the mood. Nothing about either of them is light. Not before, not now. “Is that why you came here?” </p>
<p>"No." She moves from him without another word as she disappears up the staircase. </p>
<p>His back rests against the window, leaning his head back against the glass, eyes shutting as he lets out a long sigh. The scent of the dust floods him and can only imagine young Julia running around. No doubt ever so proper. He can hardly imagine her so undone. His eyes open as he gains his composure and tries to ignore the aching need for her. Instead he chooses to distract himself with a look around. </p>
<p>Everything seems entirely untouched. He doesn’t ask how long she’s been gone, but it still manages to amaze him that the place is as if she was still alive. Nothing out of place. The frames that line the mantle bring a small smile to his lips as he can recognize Julia as a small child. He picks up the picture of her with her horse. He’s never been horseback riding. Certainly not that young. Instead he spent his youth running amuck with his mates getting into all sorts of trouble and often winding up back home covered in dirt as his mum softly scolded him to clean up before dinner. </p>
<p>Childhood is so easy. </p>
<p>The picture is set back upon the shelf as another captures his attention. It’s definitely Julia in a wedding dress and once he dares to turn his attention to the male in the picture it’s clearly Roger with a smile on his face. <em> Didn't think that was possible. </em></p>
<p>"Toss that." She sneaks up behind him. "No use now."</p>
<p>He glances over at her and does have half a mind to chuck it in the bin. Instead he places it face down against the shelf and turns to her. He has no desire to speak of Roger literally ever so he focuses on the box she sets down on the dining room table. </p>
<p>He doesn't ask as he stands on the opposite side. It feels oddly domestic, as if they are partners, up to no good certainly. </p>
<p>"Do you have the kompromat?" She asks as she shuffles through a series of papers. "It's not where I left it."</p>
<p>"Yes." He answers as he looks up at her. "I also know what's on it."</p>
<p>Julia looks up from her papers. "You haven't said anything."</p>
<p>"What am I supposed to do?” He asks. “Drive over to see the PM and ask him about Charlotte? I wager you have already done that."</p>
<p>"Not in so many words."</p>
<p>"I hate politicians." He mutters under his breath.</p>
<p>"I will try not to take that personally."</p>
<p>"It's not personal." He lets her know. "Maybe you should do something about the contents of the file instead of sorting through," he grabs some of the papers she has set aside, "financial statements."</p>
<p>"Come off it."</p>
<p>"You blackmailed him, right? That night we went to Chequers? Was it for his support on the bill?" He doesn't want to argue politics with her but it seems to come right out. "But then you can't take his seat from under him."</p>
<p>Julia says nothing as she continues to look through the papers on the table and in the box. David feels frustrated so he simply takes a seat at the table. She isn't willing to argue, which is certainly unique given her past as a criminal barrister. </p>
<p>Fifteen minutes pass before she takes a seat of her own and glances at him. </p>
<p>"When did you read the tablet? The encryption should have expired by now."</p>
<p>He looks down at the table before looking up at her. "You were asleep."</p>
<p>"Why?" She asks. "From what I understand CSI Craddock had no information on the tablet and instead was working closely with Luke."</p>
<p>"She didn't know." He never had actually gotten to sharing the information. It was his own. “I haven’t shared anything I learned.” Instead it’s been sitting in his mind eating away at him like so many other things have been. </p>
<p>"Was I wrong to trust you?"</p>
<p>"Am I wrong to trust <em> you</em>?" His voice rises ever so slightly. Her ability to be calm no matter what manages to drive him mad. </p>
<p>"This is about the school."</p>
<p>"They are my <em> children</em>, Julia." His voice is louder than he wishes it to be. He doesn't want to be angry and hurt. Before he felt guilty about choking her in a mental fit. But now, he feels the ability to be angry about the situation without guilt. The guilt will come later. He will never not feel guilty about that night. "I have made plenty of mistakes with them," namely trying to kill himself, "but if I lose them I may as well end it all."</p>
<p>"It was a confidential matter." </p>
<p>"I hate politicians." He walks out the front door, slamming it behind him, without another word. This time he makes no effort to allow her to know that it's not personal. It still isn't. He's quite certain he could never hate her, but when it comes to the situation involving his children he finds his emotions get the better of him. </p>
<p>It's not as if he is going anywhere or will get any <em> real </em>space. Instead he wants a moment to breathe before he goes back inside to speak calmly with her. Or as calm as he can be.</p>
<p>It's these moments he feels himself unraveling. Before he was quite good at reigning his emotions in. He was able to be calm and professional. Now with no professional line between them he feels the more natural aspects of him seeping out before her. In a lot of ways he is scared she will run as she sees the true state of his PTSD altered personality. </p>
<p>He can still be quiet and calm but the rage burns hot beneath the surface. He is trying desperately to reign it in. </p>
<p>David takes a short walk before he finds himself back in the house. Julia hasn't moved from her place, nor does she look at him when he stops at the edge of the table. </p>
<p>"I understand that you never meant any harm to come to my children and that my anger is misplaced." It's the terrorists he needs to be angry with, with Nadia, Craddock, and everyone else that has torn his life to bits. If he is going to be mad at politicians who have set the course of his life it's not just her he can blame. He has to blame them all. "If a situation arises with my children again I need you to tell me. They're my <em> kids</em>. Without them…"</p>
<p>Julia looks up at him for a brief moment. "I promise to tell you."</p>
<p>"Thank you." </p>
<p>She smiles at him and he smiles back. A moment where he can look at her and just <em> be</em>. He doesn't think of their shared pain or all they've been through since they first met a few months prior. He simply adores the way she looks in the dim light from the lamp behind her. </p>
<p>"Now," he keeps on topic, "what are these for?"</p>
<p>She stays quiet for a few moments before she settles more comfortably in a seat and hands him a stack of papers. "I moved these here a few days after we started working together. I didn't trust anyone to not search through my flat. They are deposits made by Brandon Williams." </p>
<p>"Who is Brandon Williams?"</p>
<p>"Roger." She informs him. "When we first started seeing one another we had names that we would use to meet without anyone noticing. We didn't want to jeopardize our careers." Her tone turns bitter. "Now I hope he rots in hell."</p>
<p>He's never seen such vitriol before, though, David can admit that it turns him on just a little too much. That and anything against Roger makes him smile. "What was your name?"</p>
<p>"Kristen Burkins." She looks through some more papers. "There is a connection to the Prime Minister I am trying to locate."</p>
<p>"You think it's in the money?"</p>
<p>"It's <em> always </em> the money, David." She comments. "Roger has a reckless loyalty to the man. He will do anything to keep him in power as it suits his agenda."</p>
<p>"You have no loyalty to him?"</p>
<p>Julia cocks her head as she studies him. "I have loyalty to my ideals and what I think this country deserves. That man is not it."</p>
<p>David simply nods. He doesn't quite think any Tory has the best interests in mind, but knows better than to say anything. He doesn't want to argue. As he skims through the papers he isn’t entirely certain what he’s looking for. It is a <em> lot </em>of money, though. It can’t be legal to be moving that much money around and in offshore accounts, no less. Where did Roger even get that much money? There’s a lot about the world of politics that he doesn’t really understand or grasp how it’s run. Even as they sit there together it’s like two different worlds. She makes the rules and he lives them out, whether good or bad. The war was bad, but he can’t say every aspect of his life has been terrible. </p>
<p>Julia sets the papers down as she turns her head to look at him. </p>
<p>David stiffens slightly as he feels her gaze. He doesn’t return the look, but rather focuses so intently on the papers it’s as if they are giving him the secret to life. Instead they are documents he is only confused by the longer he goes through them. </p>
<p>"How did you get those scars?" She asks softly. "If you don't mind me asking."</p>
<p>He sets the papers down as he tries to think of a way to not answer the question. He never wishes to talk about it, even though he has to. He hasn’t entirely covered the topic with his therapist. Instead it was bits and pieces that he put together to make it seem like that it’s the whole story when it isn’t. He doesn’t want to think about his suffering or the scars that line his back that make him nothing like the man he once was. He barely even allows his fingers to brush over the ruined skin. </p>
<p>"Can we just enjoy this?" Is what he settles on eventually. It’s far too intimate a conversation. Everything with her feels intimate. </p>
<p>"Very well." </p>
<p>He needs more time before he can tell her the thoughts in the dark corners of his mind. He doesn’t think she will judge him, but there’s some things he still isn’t ready to face. David hasn’t come to terms with the fact that he is changed and he is darker. He’s not the man who he was at twenty. He’s someone else entirely and that someone scares him sometimes. </p>
<p>"Will you take me home?" She asks after another moment as she rises to place the papers back in the box.</p>
<p>"Yeah."</p>
<p>He doesn’t mention they went all that way for seemingly nothing. Or that it seems quite silly she asked him to take her for a mission that really anyone could have waited around while she made an excuse to visit a family home. Instead he gets back in the car as he starts driving them both towards London, to pretend the two of them never left. The silence has found them once more but he finds it more comfortable now. Perhaps she wanted to look for more but grew tired. Or it’s nothing more than an excuse to see one another. He often finds himself looking for those. It doesn’t make much sense for him to pull them apart to be eager to spend any sort of time he can with her. He doesn’t always make a lot of sense. He just makes more sense with her. </p>
<p>“I’m hungry.” David says just as he takes a slight detour to a small café he knows is still open in the wee hours of the morning. </p>
<p>She raises her eyebrow at him. “Me, too.”</p>
<p>As they walk into the small restaurant that only has one table occupied he is surprised at how normal it feels. He takes his seat across from her. It’s as normal as the two of them will ever get. He’s not going to take that for granted, just as he isn’t going to take her for granted. There she is alive and in the flesh. There are some nights where he wakes up thinking she is still dead. Those nights he aches to call her to make his brain remember she is alive. He rarely does. Instead he’s been trying to keep some distance between them so he doesn’t grow too attached to her. </p>
<p>Other times he wonders why he tries so hard when he knows what he wants. He is near positive that she wants the same thing. Sometimes it feels as if he is just punishing himself for the sake of it. It’s almost as if he is refusing to allow himself to feel any sense of happiness. </p>
<p>"You don't have the children this weekend."</p>
<p>"They have the flu." He explains. "Vicky seemed ill, too. Probably <em> Allen</em>." The tone he uses probably gives away his true feelings about the man. </p>
<p>Julia looks at him as her hands curl around the cup. "Mm."</p>
<p>"I'm not jealous."</p>
<p>"I did not say you were."</p>
<p>He takes a sip of water. "My therapist says I used her as a crutch to my old life. She represents everything before the war and the...<em> PTSD</em>, when I was light and happy. Now I'm dark and…" he trails off not quite sure. "It's all rubbish."</p>
<p>"What do you think?"</p>
<p>"Maybe I am a little darker." A shrug rolls off his shoulders. It sounds so silly to be thinking of himself in such a way. As if light and dark are all he has. What he knows is that he's not so carefree now. He takes things more seriously. Everything is more serious. Even his attraction to Julia feels a different part of him. He’s not letting himself be guided by feelings and want. They tried that once. Instead he thinks carefully about every word and every interaction. "My marriage was always going to end."</p>
<p>For a moment he expects her to say something but she doesn't. Instead she watches him with interest and he has a renewed desire to kiss her. And fuck her but he pushes those thoughts out as quickly as they come in. </p>
<p>"The last tour before I retired was…" he represses any memories of it, eyes closing for a brief moment. He has to face it eventually. Not quite yet. "It wasn't the explosion that brought about the worst of it. I think it was just one time too many. When I got back it was so hard to just <em> be</em>. We were at each other's throats for months and the last year has been…" he feels a certain shame now with how he acted. He thinks he loves her a little more for not saying anything as he does his best to get his thoughts out. “I was scared of being alone. I <em> am </em>scared of being alone. I don’t want another man raising my children. I want to be there, to be present, and to be everything I can’t. Sometimes I don’t know who I am and what I’m supposed to be. With her I knew who I was. I’m just not that man anymore and pretending I was killed whatever we had.” </p>
<p>He takes a sip of his water just for a chance to think about what he is trying to say. </p>
<p>“So, I’m not jealous. I’m not in love with her anymore.” He will always love her and hold her close. They grew together and have kids. That bond doesn't die just because their marriage has, but he has Julia in his life now. It’s different. She is nothing he could have ever dreamed of. Certainly he never would have sat there daydreaming over the Home Secretary, but from their first day together things have been shifting. </p>
<p>"It's perfectly reasonable to have feelings about the partner the mother of your children has chosen." She reminds him as she sips her tea. </p>
<p>“Yeah, I suppose.” In a sense she is right in another...it all circles back around to her. "I know what I want." </p>
<p>"What do you want, David?"</p>
<p>"<em>You.</em>"</p>
<hr/>
<p>David walks with his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he walks down the alley and takes the long way around. He’s trying to be late as he approaches the building where he knows the meeting is taking place. He still isn’t much for that whole soap box thing. He used to talk more but now it doesn’t seem worth it. He’s doing his best to get better at that. He really needs to learn how to open up instead of keeping everything to himself. </p>
<p>Sharing sends a bout of anxiety through him. </p>
<p>He’s tried to share some more bits with his therapist but their sessions are always a bit lackluster. He’s been trying to find the right thing to say so he doesn’t seem mentally off his rocker any more than he actually is. What he is supposed to be doing is expressing the thoughts on his mind that are keeping him in the endless cycle of his damaged mind. </p>
<p>He wants to be free. </p>
<p>As he slips into the meeting he looks down at his watch. He’s missed more than half of it but he is trying. That is something. He takes the seat in the back, against the wall, and pulls his baseball cap down against his head a little tighter as if he is trying to hide the fact that he is there at all. There is some sharing and he barely hears the words coming from the other men around him as he studies them all. None of them look radical. Not that he would have thought Andy to be as radical as he turned out being just from looking at him. </p>
<p>The group does seem a bit calmer though. He notes that as he relaxes a bit.</p>
<p>As they move to the sharing part of the meeting he thinks about getting up and slipping back out the door. He cannot share with his therapist, Vicky, or even Julia in most circumstances. He’s surely not going to tell a room full of strangers his problems. It’s not a bloody AA meeting. Being a drunk would be less shameful. </p>
<p>Thankfully, he seems to have been spared for the evening. They devolve into smaller conversations and before he can get up to leave someone sits next to him. </p>
<p>"The politicians <em> are </em>dangerous." One man reaffirms the words of the group as he pops down next to David. "Are you new around here?"</p>
<p>"Not quite." He is uncertain if he’s recognized. After that whole incident he’s definitely a face that's been in the papers and he wouldn’t be surprised if the veterans in there took a look. “This place isn't usually my scene."</p>
<p>"Aye," he nods, "I get it. So what brought you here?"</p>
<p>David has to think about it. He lets out a sigh as he looks over at the male next to him. He doesn't want to be suspicious of him so he tries not to be, but then he is. Because David is suspicious of everything these days. It's not his strongest suite and he tries to not look at him like he's crazy. "I hate war." That's simple enough. "And I don't want my kids to suffer the same fate."</p>
<p>The thought of letting either Ella or Charlie follow into his footsteps makes his heart beat just a little faster and makes his stomach turn. Neither of them are going to live the life he did. He wants to afford them every opportunity he can. No matter what he will do anything to make their dreams come true. <em> Anything</em>. </p>
<p>"You got kids?"</p>
<p>"Two." He feels such happiness in thinking of them he forgoes the moment to be reserved and instead enjoys the comfortable mind. "A boy and a girl."</p>
<p>"Perfect pair."</p>
<p>"Aye. I guess so." He barely hesitates before sharing. "Ella and Charlie."</p>
<p> "Good kids?"</p>
<p>"Aye, the best." The kids are really the one thing he can always talk about. “You have any kids?”</p>
<p>“Not for me.” The man says as he looks around. "Are you going to be here next week?"</p>
<p>"Yeah." He replies without even really thinking about it. It'll be good to check out so at least he can think of them not carrying out any more targeted attacks. If he learns something about himself in the process maybe he can actually find himself on the road to recovery. Sometimes he feels like all the effort he’s putting in isn’t actually doing anything for him.</p>
<p>"Show up on time so you can see what we're really about." </p>
<p>His eyes study the man as he leaves before he stands up on his own. He takes a look around the room. Quiet as most people have left. He does want to see more about what they are about. Something about the shit show he just experienced makes him think there is so much more to come. </p>
<p>He thinks about it the whole way home as he tries to find out more information about the kompromat only to come up empty handed. </p>
<p>“David.” Samantha's voice rings the moment he steps into the office. “My office.” </p>
<p>It doesn’t seem good but he simply shrugs his shoulders when the others ask him what’s going on. Needless to say he always seems to be getting himself into a bit of hot water. He doesn’t think he’s exactly their favorite employee.</p>
<p>"Take a seat. David." She says as he steps through the threshold.</p>
<p>"Ma'am." He greets as he takes a seat. </p>
<p>"What were you doing at the Veterans for Peace meeting?"</p>
<p>His face remains neutral even as he finds himself quite suspicious. "Having a look about. I <em> am </em>a veteran, Ma'am."</p>
<p>"With their link to the underground mafia and terrorist organizations I don't think it's wise for you to be linked given your recent past."</p>
<p>"I was cleared of any wrong doing."</p>
<p>She gives a nod. "Yes, I am aware of that." </p>
<p>He allows the silence to hang between them for a moment. "Are you having me followed, Ma'am?"</p>
<p>"It's for your own protection."</p>
<p>David wonders if it’s her doing or Anne’s. Though if she is having him followed she most definitely knows how much time he spends with Julia. Too much for it to look like anything professional. It <em> isn’t </em>professional. It’s not as if he is still her PPO. They are...<em>friends</em>. Friends doesn’t seem exactly the correct word to use. He doesn’t spend any sort of time with her to watch bad telly or catch up. He spends his time with her because the thought of spending his time elsewhere doesn’t seem right. After their little conversation in the diner nothing has changed. The tension builds between them but he never crosses the imaginary line he’s put in for the two of them. Instead he pretends that he is nothing more than her friend and partner coming around to spend some time with her while they put the pieces of the puzzle together.</p>
<p>"You are to not attend any further meetings." She tells him when he doesn’t say anything. </p>
<p>"Is that an <em> order</em>, Ma'am?" He already knows the answer but he answers to be a bit cheeky. </p>
<p>"Let's not find out." </p>
<p>Not yet being dismissed he sits there with his hands in his lap. He hasn’t yet decided if he likes her or not. He still doesn’t know what to think about Craddock, truthfully. She was someone with power and for a time he respected her, but after her master plan to make him take the fall for everything he cannot say respect is quite the word he would use. He worries that Samantha is someone placed there in order to make his life, once again, a living hell. </p>
<p>He is not naïve enough to think that any attacks against Julia are simply gone. </p>
<p>War is war even if there are no soldiers making plans against people they are brainwashed into thinking they are terrorists. </p>
<p>"I understand you and Anne have an arrangement."</p>
<p>He blinks at her. “Ma’am.” </p>
<p>"She has chosen to not share anymore than that." She stands walking over to him. "Keep your nose clean. Craddock left a load of shit behind and I intend this to be a respectable position."</p>
<p>"Ma'am."</p>
<p>"You're dismissed." </p>
<p>David cant resist rolling his eyes as he walks out of her office. Still undecided but he settles on her not being corrupt. Yet, at least. He has a sneaking suspicion the corruption is everywhere around him. </p>
<p>Bureaucracy is another pain in his arse.</p>
<hr/>
<p>David does his best to keep his nose clean. </p>
<p>He goes to work and he goes home. He has the kids for the week, which makes anything he’s working on come to a stand still. Between his job, making sure the kids are doing their schoolwork, and his inability to sleep with his nightmares flaring up he doesn’t find it in him to actually fuss through google searches and everything trying to make sense of the sparse details he has. </p>
<p>He hasn’t seen Julia in the week either. That does keep him up in ways that government conspiracies haven’t. </p>
<p>Not that he dislikes having the kids there or he holds any complaint about it. He would give up all of his underground work to simply have them there. It’s better for them to be with Vicky during the week. He knows that. She is far more put together than he’s been in years, but he misses them dearly. He’s also slightly jealous they seem to like Allen.</p>
<p>Again, he knows that having his kids hate their mother’s boyfriend is something terrible and would never wish to cause them that kind of misery. He just thinks about Julia telling him it's fine to have feelings about the partner of the mother of his children. </p>
<p>That’s normal, isn’t it?</p>
<p>He’s got to get over whatever obsession with normal he has. </p>
<p>When he drops the kids back off at Vicky’s he slips back into those habits of his. For once, his obsession is doing him some good. Not that he’s actually making any progress but he feels as if something is on the horizon. Or perhaps it’s that he spends nearly every night in Julia’s flat as they compare notes. One night is lost to him checking every spot in her place for any bug placed. </p>
<p>He does that when she’s not looking, too. So many nights of her grabbing some wine and him fussing through the living room so that they are not being spied on. He still has no clue who Stephen Longcross actually is, since that is most definitely not his real name, but he isn’t about to let someone else in on their secrets. </p>
<p>He’s grown a bit too protective of his time with her. </p>
<p>She mentions a late meeting to him the previous night and that is how he finds himself outside the building. He knows well enough he is to be caught and reported to Samantha. It’s a risk he is willing to take as he steps foot back inside.</p>
<p>He mostly listens as they go on about dangerous politicians and he even finds himself nodding along a time or two. Some politicians are dangerous, but he has to compartmentalize so he doesn’t put Julia in the same category. He has to do that or he will go back to her flat and yell at her for things she’s voted for and beliefs she most certainly still has. </p>
<p>He’s not prepared for those debates. </p>
<p>He exits the meeting right before the sharing part begins, another thing he is not prepared for, before he finds himself back at his flat for the evening. He can feel himself growing closer to Julia but with his barely there mind and his unfortunate therapy appointments he still cannot give himself to her. </p>
<p>Even if he wants her. Some nights the desire burns through him so entirely it takes him too long to walk out her front door without kissing her. He can barely remember what her lips feel like against his own.</p>
<p>When was their last kiss? </p>
<p>It had to be the night before he slipped off to his own room, hadn’t it? Everything after that had become such a right, proper mess he can only remember the anguish he felt and the pain she felt. That was months ago now. Between then she died and came back to life and now they’ve found themselves in such a state. </p>
<p>He doesn’t get much done as she preoccupies his mind until he nods off. </p>
<p>"I need to know where your loyalties lie, David." Anne says in her office where she’s called him before his meeting with Samantha he is sure to come. </p>
<p>"Where does the department’s loyalties lie?" He asks. "I think RIPA 18 is shit, too, Ma'am. What is your plan? Bring her down by any means necessary. You were working with Craddock? Or did you not know she was involved in shady dealings for years?"</p>
<p>"I was not aware to what extent." She admits. "If it passes -"</p>
<p>"<em>When </em> it passes." He corrects. "You'll lose your power and that is what this is about."</p>
<p>"Careful, David."</p>
<p>"Fire me if I'm so out of bounds, Ma'am." He is pushing it and that's when he knows perhaps the therapist is not going as well as he would like. Not when he feels that reckless energy. Or maybe deep down he knows she is not going to fire him so he wants to get some real answers. He wants answers out of someone. "Julia wishes to be PM. She is looking for a connection from Roger to prove his dealings have been less than ideal." That’s one way to put it. </p>
<p>She crosses her arms as she watches him. "Go on."</p>
<p>"A woman named Charlotte Foxfield accused the PM of sexual assault when they were at Cambridge together. My clearance blocks her name, though I have found out that isn't her name at all. The security service has buried any record." It’s not much but it’s more than he’s ever said to her about anything to do with Julia. Anne doesn’t ask the other questions hanging in the air and for once, he has the ability to say there is nothing going on between them. </p>
<p>Anne tries her own and finds there is nothing noteworthy. She looks up at him with furrowed brows. “How long have you known of it?”</p>
<p>"I suspect she had a name change." He ignores the blatant question. </p>
<p>They do not trust one another but he thinks that may help them both in the end. </p>
<p>"I will look into it." She looks up at him for a moment. “You are growing too attached to her, David. I think it is best you take some space, but I will not order you to.” </p>
<p>“It is nothing I cannot handle.” He doesn’t convince himself as he says it. He is too attached to her. “I know what I’m doing.”</p>
<p>“For your sake, I hope that is true.” </p>
<p>He takes the dismissal as he adjusts himself once outside of her office. His loyalties are to himself, his kids, and to Julia. So when he moves from Anne’s office to Samantha’s and is placed on performance review he doesn’t pitch a fit. He is unclear if it’s meant to be a power move against him or if she is truly trying to make the department better. He takes it. He’ll figure the rest out later. He can find another job. Something he should have done a long time ago. He is comfortable there. That’s one of his main reasons for never straying. He needed something familiar. If they fire him he’ll survive. There’s always the private sector. </p>
<p>It’s not his job he fusses over as he coops himself up in his flat for a few days. It’s Charlotte. He wants to solve every piece of the kompromat puzzle. It dawns on him she likely doesn’t want to be found, but the news will break regardless. It’s in the minds of too many people now. He’s half surprised Anne hasn’t leaked a presser herself for the information. </p>
<p>It’s on his fourth day of leave that he finds out her real name and that she moved to Scotland where she is now married with three children. </p>
<p><em> Victory</em>. </p>
<p>There isn’t a true, concrete reason he knocks on the door of Julia’s flat after figuring it out. He’s seen her a bit less in the recent week. He doesn’t even know what to tell her about Charlotte. He is walking a fine line. Though she can always find out more information if she wants to. When she opens the door all those thoughts are gone. </p>
<p>He takes her in. Her hair has grown a bit longer now and he wants to run his fingers through it. His hands are his own as he doesn’t make a move to touch her. She is dressed far more casually than he’s seen in months. He is trying his hardest to remain professional and friendly when there are so many other thoughts on his mind. She is always on his mind as of late. </p>
<p>He’s still utterly terrified. </p>
<p>"I have been placed on performance review." He explains once he realizes he’s been staring too long. </p>
<p>Her brows furrow in concern. "Why?"</p>
<p>"<em>Insubordination</em>." His lips curve up slightly. </p>
<p>"Is that why you haven't shaved?"</p>
<p>"Yes." He moves his hand to his face as he feels the stubble beneath them. Her hand reaches out to touch his jaw, gentle as her fingers brush against him. </p>
<p>“Come in.” </p>
<p>As they move to her kitchen he misses her touch. She pulls out a bottle of wine for them without asking him. He wants to ask her if she’s finally been sleeping but the mess on her couch of pillows and blankets mixed with books and papers tell him she isn’t. She hands him a glass as she stands before him. </p>
<p>“I know who Charlotte Foxfield is.” He tells her as he takes a sip of the red wine he’s grown a taste for. He leans against the island behind him as his gaze doesn’t dare stray from her. </p>
<p>“I know how that has been bothering you.” She smiles before taking a sip. </p>
<p>She is such a difficult woman to read he barely knows what to say. “Do you want to know her name?”</p>
<p>“No.” She takes a sip of wine. “I was fine using her for private blackmail material, but I have no intention of using a woman’s sexual assault as fodder for my road to number 10. I am not a <em> monster</em>, David.”</p>
<p>“I never said you were.” He takes one last sip of his wine before he places it on the counter. “I’m going to contact her.” </p>
<p>“Your decision.” She comments. “I know of your arrangement.” </p>
<p>“Which one?”</p>
<p>“Do not play dumb, David.” She hardens her gaze. Her glass is set down against the marble sharply. </p>
<p>“I’m not.” He remains soft as he watches her, guilt seeping inside of him. He should have told her before. He wanted to even, but then he didn’t. Instead he chose to keep it to himself until the right moment came. Trying to keep both Anne and Julia placated bit him in the arse. “I meant now or before?”</p>
<p>“There are <em> two</em>?” She raises her eyebrow. </p>
<p>“They wanted me to spy on you to stop how dangerous you were.” He tries to explain. “Now Anne is trying to finish the mission.”</p>
<p>“And what have you told them?” </p>
<p>“I never told Craddock anything.” He moves closer, testing the murky waters they are now in. “Anne knows that you want to be PM. About Charlotte. Nothing else.” </p>
<p>“Why?” Her voice cracks just enough to see the emotion moving through her. </p>
<p>“Because,” he reaches out for her but she makes no effort towards him, “it gave me access to you without raising suspicion. I would never betray you, Julia. I would do anything for you. I would die for you. I would kill for you.”</p>
<p>Julia softens as she reaches out, her hand on the side of his face. “I would never ask that of you.” </p>
<p>“Doesn’t change the truth.” His lips press against her wrist, keeping his eye on her, feeling that familiar pang of desire rush through him. He'll do anything for her. He knows that. She holds a place in his heart that is right next to his children. It's different of course. She means so much to him that his life without her is nothing he is willing to do now that he has a choice. </p>
<p>She’s so warm and beautiful as he kisses against her pulse again. How did he ever get so lucky?</p>
<p>He pulls her closer as his hand covers hers, keeping her near, kissing the palm of her hand now, twice over. David aches to be near her, to have her, to hold her. His eyes never leave hers as he kisses up along her wrist, her arm, until he is looking at her with his breath hitching in his throat. He doesn’t kiss her, though. Not yet. He wants to. God, does he want to. He just holds her close as he allows their fingers to interlock so he can have a connection to her.</p>
<p>It’s always their hands. From the first moment it’s been such a gesture between the two it means so much more than his mouth or his cock can give them. </p>
<p>“You’re not okay, love.” He whispers as his forehead rests against her own. This time he has no intention to run, but instead to be there with her as long as she will let him. “I can see you’re not okay every time I come over.”</p>
<p>“I am fine, David.” The denial is smooth from her, while she makes no effort to move from him. Instead her hand rests on the side of his neck. “Don’t worry about me.” </p>
<p>“I always will.” He places his hand on the side of her face, stroking his thumb against her cheek. “You need someone to worry about you. Let that person be me.” </p>
<p>She says nothing as she moves so her frame is pressed more intently against his. The wine is forgotten on the counter as the only thing that matters is the two of them caught in the embrace that is only bringing them closer. Two broken people who have no business leaning on one another as they do. </p>
<p>She hasn’t opened up about her own trauma, though he can see it there. She isn’t sleeping and he suspects she isn’t eating much either. She runs on a steady supply of determination and wine. She’s withdrawn and has snapped at those around her a little too often from what her PPO has told him when they are getting their weapons in the morning. It’s not entirely fair for him to be putting up the wall between them when he is entirely content on suffering alone. The thought of her suffering alone only upsets him. He doesn’t know what he is doing or what is to become of them, but standing there with her, the embrace capturing them so completely, feels right. </p>
<p>"Stay." She breathes, opening her eyes to look at him. </p>
<p>"I'm not going anywhere." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter is sponsored by Valentine's Day making me soft. xx</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This week's update is a bit late since I hit some really annoying writer's block. Thankfully, it lifted. Hope you enjoy! xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's the constant movement on the bed that arouses David from his light sleep. He has to blink a few times for him to recognize that he isn’t in his own flat. Instead he is in <em> Julia’s</em>. His attention moves to her immediately as he watches the way she thrashes against the bed. He reaches to wake her from her nightmare before she stills and turns on her side, lulling herself into another peaceful sleep. </p>
<p>He moves to face her, lying on his side, tucking his arm beneath the pillow as he takes a moment to bask that he’s there with her. He wants to be there forever as he recalls her tugging him off to bed hours prior, the two of them lying together, <em> talking</em>, and letting them both relax in a moment where they haven’t been able to relax before. Things are still up in the air, so many questions left unasked, so much trauma between the two, but he feels safe next to her. Even if sleeping next to her terrifies him. He doesn’t want to have a repeat of the night before everything changed. </p>
<p>She trusts him. </p>
<p>She had to convince him to stay. Now that he’s there he is glad he hasn’t moved. It’s only when he’s certain that she is asleep that he allows his own eyes to close. He feels like he needs to watch her even if that's untrue. He partially uses it as an excuse for him to not sleep.</p>
<p>Not that he needs to give himself more reasons to avoid sleeping. </p>
<p>
  <em> He runs towards the stage. It’s covered in debris. He can’t hear. Everything is dark. Everything smells burnt. That smell of fire, plaster, and flesh charred. He hates that he is so familiar with that scent. He can only be glad he isn't the one burning.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> No, there is no time for his own pity party.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He runs towards the stage even as the panic that vibrates through him is enough to make him want to run the other way. He can’t.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Nothing is right.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>— Julia.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>She is the only thought on his mind as he runs, looking down, moving the pieces until he finds her body. The blood is everywhere. So much blood. Do humans really have that much blood? It’s pouring out all around them as he does his best to stop the bleeding. He kneels, ignoring the pain as the wood from the podium digs in the flesh of his thigh. The blood is all over him. His shirt is ruined, as are his pants. He frantically tries to stop the bleeding.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> He can’t.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> It’s all around him now. He looks at her, face breaking, trying to keep the composure. He can’t look as hurt as he is. He wants to cry. He really wants to cry. Instead he puts on that steely gaze that feels like his natural state since his return.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She opens her eyes.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “Why didn’t you save me, David?” She asks, voice cold and detached, sitting up even as the blood continues to pour out from her body, down her eyes, from her mouth. “You were supposed to save me.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “I’m sorry -” He tries, but then she is standing before him as the blood continues to run. David remains on his knees as he watches her. “Don’t go.”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “You were supposed to save me.”  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The blood is all around him and he swears it's enough for a swimming pool. Everything else fades from around them. The smell is gone and now he sees her as the blood covers her entire frame until she is moving from him.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "You need to save me." </em>
</p>
<p>David wakes, eyes shooting open, checking to make sure Julia is there, <em>alive</em>. The panic has him sitting up all too quickly to see that she is sitting up as well, hand on her chest, breathing deeply as she turns her head to look at him. </p>
<p>"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"</p>
<p>"You didn't." He assures her. The nightmare is pushed from his mind as he gently reaches out to touch her, hand on her shoulder. He wants to feel her, to feel the way the blood is not pouring from her. He doesn't want to burden her with his issues now.  "Are you alright, love?" </p>
<p>Her eyes are wide and filled with fear as she looks over at him. She leans into his touch, relaxing somewhat. The sound of her breath fills the empty space around them. "Nothing to concern yourself over." </p>
<p>She's lying. He sees more cracks when they spend more time together. She hurts as much as he does. Sometimes he thinks she may hurt even <em> more </em> than he does. His injuries are old. He's learned to cope. Her injuries are fresh, real right now, even as she swears she is fine and he doesn't need to worry about her. </p>
<p>They have an equal footing in this regard. </p>
<p>"C'mere." He pulls her closer to him until she is collapsing in his arms. He holds her tight as they fall back to rest against the bed. He inhales her, feeling that this is right where they need to be. </p>
<p>So much trauma exists in the room. </p>
<p>Julia buries her face in his neck. A time when he can feel her vulnerability and her softness. He wants to cling onto her and hold her there forever. He let's them tangle together in a mess of limbs and soft breaths as they do not move from the embrace. </p>
<p>"I have nightmares." Her lips brush against his neck, the words barely audible. "Sometimes it's the bombing, other times it's the night I woke you." </p>
<p>David tries not to move. He isn't going to let his own guilt seep in. She's allowed him to speak and now it's his turn to allow her to speak. </p>
<p>"I'm <em> tired</em>." Somehow the word comes out even softer. As if she hasn't uttered it at all. "I'm <em> so </em> tired, David."</p>
<p>"I know." He brushes his fingers through her hair as he finds comfort in the weight of her body pressed against his own. He shuts his eyes as he allows them to linger there. The clock on the nightstand reads four in the morning and he has no intention of moving. </p>
<p>Her fingers graze along his stubble as she had earlier. After their embrace in the kitchen she tugged him off to the bedroom where they've been ever since. He still hasn't properly kissed her. They keep laying there as if letting go of one another would simply be too much. He hasn't done anything to ruin whatever is there between them. He often wonders if kissing her properly will break whatever exists there in the blissful bubble the two of them have created for themselves, so he doesn't. Even though he burns to.</p>
<p>"I am poor at allowing for others to look after me." </p>
<p>"I am, too." He whispers. "But I'm not going anywhere, Julia."</p>
<p>She picks her head up to glass at him, chin resting on his chest, "I tried to get them to tell you sooner."</p>
<p>He blinks at her unsure what to say so he says nothing at all.</p>
<p>"You deserved to know the truth. They wouldn't have any of it. When we saw the news I was even more insistent."</p>
<p>He brushes his fingers through her hair. "Do you ever get tired of this life?"</p>
<p>"These last few months have been challenging." She whispers as she runs her index finger along his jaw, nails grazing against his skin. "This is how I help people and know I am doing my best whether or not everyone agrees with my choices. Plus," she gets that look in her eyes, "it brought us together didn't it?"</p>
<p>"It did." He watches her as she rests atop of him. The closest they've been in months. Last night she pulled him into her room after they finished the wine. They've been there ever since as they continue to take one another in. The longest time he's actually kept his clothes on instead of shedding them in an effort to be physically closer to her. </p>
<p>He would have done that too but what they have right now is enough. He’s trying to savor every moment between them. He <em> needs </em>her. </p>
<p>"I like to think we would have met somehow." At least the more romantic parts of him liked to think that. David isn’t sure if he believes in soulmates or fate. Being there with her is something, though, and he’s not going to deny that they are being pulled together over and over again. As long as they have a will to be together they will be. </p>
<p>"Mm." She traces her finger along his jaw. "Where would we have met?"</p>
<p>"The pub. The market. That dive you like your fish and chips from. The corner. <em> Anywhere</em>." Maybe he <em> does </em>believe in fate. Just a little. "I can't help but think things were meant to happen this way."</p>
<p>Had they met any other time he would have hated her. He was also helplessly in love with Vicky for so long that he wouldn’t have thought twice about Julia. At some point he can only assume she loved Roger. They had to break apart to move together. Now as she rests her weight upon him he feels calm and safe. A feeling she brings. It feels so right for him to think anything else was meant for them. </p>
<p>"I didn't know you believed in fate." She teases with a smile on the edge of her lips. </p>
<p>He gives a slight shrug. "I believe in a lot of things." </p>
<p>She sits up on her arms, watching him. "I want this to work."</p>
<p>"So do I." He wants to reach out to touch her but doesn't. Instead his eyes are set upon her, watching her in ways he has many times before. It is different, though. He can feel the difference between them now. The way everything is heightened and their pull is almost magnetic. </p>
<p>Why it's <em> her </em>is another question he has no answer to. On paper they are opposites. On paper he hates her. But when she's there before him it doesn't matter what the paper says. It's only what lies between them that matters. It's what exists as he looks at her and feels that sense of desire stirring in the pit of his stomach. </p>
<p>His hand reaches for hers, taking her fingers in his as he holds her, letting the connection build. As if the hands were the secret to everything and not just simple <em> hands.</em> </p>
<p>He doesn’t have all the answers, none of them really. </p>
<p>Julia raises their joint hands to press her lips on the back of his hand. A gesture that is soft, leading him to smile at her, feeling the intimacy forming between them both. It’s the best word to describe just what has been transpiring between them both. As much as he wants to have sex with her he is glad they haven’t rushed back into old habits. </p>
<p>It’s her turn to kiss along his wrist, his arm, until she is at his neck, kissing gently along his warm skin, his pulse where his heart is only beating faster, until she is along the line of his jaw. His gaze is on her entirely as she pulls back, looking at him with the same questioning gaze, as they are both trying to get the other to answer. </p>
<p>He thinks she is about to kiss him properly on the lips. A feeling he longs for more than he is willing to truly admit to himself, her, or his therapist. </p>
<p>There’s a certain sense of disappointment and understanding as she moves so she is lying on the side of him, the side of he bed that is clearly hers, the side of his, the side of the visitor. He closes his eyes, unwilling to move, to disturb the peace. </p>
<p>“Why did you do it?” </p>
<p>Her voice rouses him from the nodding off he’s done. His gaze shifts over to her before resting upon the ceiling again. “Do what?” Maybe he knows exactly what she means but if they are going to talk about this, talk about<em> it</em>, the heavy weight that the conversation brings he wants to hear her say exactly what it is she means. </p>
<p>“David -”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p>“That’s not true.” She purses her lips. “Why did you,” she pauses and for a woman who finds she never seems to pause even for the most intense of topics he knows it bothers her, “try to kill yourself?”</p>
<p>The words sting. The act stings. He desperately tries not to remember it as if it didn’t happen. He doesn’t want to think about the notes left behind, the fact that the round was blank, or Vicky standing there pulling out pieces of metal from the side of his head as if he didn’t try to blow his brains out over...everything. </p>
<p>He’s still not okay. He still thinks that maybe sometimes it’d be easier if he did just end it all. Leave everything and everyone behind for the bliss on the other side, whatever bliss that is. But he knows he’ll leave more heartache behind. As long as he is here he can make up for it so he chooses to live and does his best to open up to his therapist. He’s gotten better but he’s still so poor about it that it doesn’t really work as well as he likes to think.</p>
<p>“You don’t get to kiss me and ask me that.” He grows defensive. Whatever intimacy he felt was there feels as if it’s been ripped away. He doesn’t want to talk about it and he’s annoyed she’s asked. He rises, looking over at her, trying to right the mess his clothes have become from rolling around in the bed. He’s not cruel by nature so even though he almost wishes he can insult her so she'll be angry at him and never bring the topic up again he doesn’t. Instead he feels a swelling his chest because he’s so uncomfortable he can barely stand it. </p>
<p>“David.” She says in that soft tone when she’s trying to soothe him.</p>
<p>“<em> Julia</em>.” His tone is sharp. “Do you know how fucked up it is that every time something happens you comfort me?” </p>
<p>She sits up on the bed, brows furrowing. The silence remains between them as she walks towards him, looking up at him, daring to reach out to place her hand on his cheek. “Helping you helps me.” </p>
<p>“You shouldn’t <em> have </em>to help me.” He finds it impossible to be angry now. His shoulders slump as he looks at her even though he doesn’t want to. “You got blown up. You aren’t okay either. You should focus on that, not your suicidal PPO.”</p>
<p>Julia frowns. “Are you still suicidal?”</p>
<p>“I have to go.” He says before this conversation can be opened up into something he isn’t really ready for. “I’m sorry.” David doesn’t wait for a reply and slips out the front door where he simply sinks down to the floor on the opposite side of it. He buries his head in his hands as he tries to breathe and not feel what exactly is overwhelming him. </p><hr/>
<p>David sits in the therapist office as he tries not to think about leaving Julia’s flat just because she wanted to talk about the <em> incident.</em> That's what he has decided to call that moment now. <em> The incident</em>. That way he can keep it far from his mind. It's a way of coping for him. They will need to discuss it eventually. There are so many things they need to talk about. He finds himself almost desperate to hear about the trauma she won’t share with him just so they can avoid the topic of his. He wants to be free of his mind, his trauma, and all the dark thoughts that have turned him into an entirely different person whether he likes it or not. </p>
<p>It’s all so much he hasn't thought about work or all the things he is trying to piece together. He doesn't care much. Not at the moment, at least. All that can wait.. Until then he settles there as he watches as she organizes herself before they officially start. </p>
<p>He has a lot to say and nothing to say at all. </p>
<p>“How are you, David?”</p>
<p>“Terrible.” He answers in an honesty he usually doesn’t bother with. “I’m <em> terrible</em>.” </p>
<p>He has an overwhelming desire to actually face what is going on in front of him, even if he doesn’t want to. In the past sessions he’s had he hasn’t really been <em> too </em>forthcoming with things he needs to face. He mostly rattles off about his childhood or the war, even. His nightmares have been dissected to the point where he’s moved onto new ones. He doesn’t think of Andy out in Helmand anymore. Now it’s Julia dying in all sorts of ways. </p>
<p>“I almost never think about Vicky.” He says, moving his hands to his lap, cracking his knuckles as he fights for something to do other than overthink about what he wants to say. “Sometimes it’s like she’s not even real. I’m consumed by Julia all the time.” He takes a brief pause. “My kids were sick so I didn’t get to see them.” He doesn’t want to seem as if he is replacing his life with Julia. He isn’t. Not when it comes to his children. He will always be there no matter what. When he doesn’t get to see them, however, his mind travels elsewhere, to the person he <em> does </em>get to see all the time now. </p>
<p>“I know how much you value time with your children.”</p>
<p>“I understand.” He dismisses. “You get the flu, you get the flu. I’ve spent all my time entirely and utterly consumed with Julia that I feel like I’m almost living in two different parts. She asked me why I tried to kill myself. I got mad. She asked me if I was still suicidal and I left.”</p>
<p>She nods. “Is that why you’re terrible?”</p>
<p>“I’m terrible because,” he pauses, not entirely sure he knows the answer, “because I love her and I can’t open up to her. I can’t answer those questions because it makes it more real.” </p>
<p>“You don’t want it to be real.” </p>
<p>He shits his gaze to her. “If it’s real then I really did try to kill myself. If it’s real I still want to. If it’s real I don’t know how to make this all go away. I feel like I’m moving backwards and pretending I’m okay when I’m not.” </p>
<p>“You’ve made progress.” </p>
<p>“I want to be...<em> happy</em>.” He says as he looks up at her. “I just don’t know how to get there.”</p>
<p>“I’m here to help.” </p><hr/>
<p>This time when he stands outside Julia’s flat there is no peace offering in his hand. He stands there empty handed as he waits for her to answer the door he’s knocked on. After therapy he found himself walking around London until he decided he didn’t want to go home. He wants to be there with her even in his mess of a mind. </p>
<p>When she opens the door she doesn’t say anything and he feels as if he is going to explode right there just watching her with how much he wants to say and how much he doesn’t want to say all at the same time. </p>
<p>“You seem surprised to see me.” He is the one who speaks first as he makes no effort to actually walk through the door. </p>
<p>Julia shakes her head. “I knew you would come back.” </p>
<p>David takes a step forward so she is standing directly beneath the frame of the door. His eyes study hers until they drop to her lips. He never thought he would be able to kiss her again and he’s been putting it off. For what? Because a kiss between the two is going to destroy them? He isn’t much of a superstitious man but that seems superstitious. Now that he can kiss her freely he doesn’t. Before when he was certainly going to be reprimanded if anyone found out what he was up to, other than Craddock who had her own agenda, he kissed her all the time. </p>
<p>It’s not only the demons in his mind that don’t make any sense. </p>
<p>He’s tired of waiting. David doesn’t know what is going to happen between them in the future. All they have is right now.</p>
<p>He takes another step forward so he is before her, hands moving to her cheeks, kissing her with all the intensity and desire he’s wanted since he saw her standing in that living room alive. </p>
<p>Her hands move to his jacket as she tugs him closer. David kicks the door shut behind him as he falls into the kiss and pours all the things he can’t say into the way his lips move against her. It’s an apology in some ways and in other ways it’s the selfishness of desire taking over. There are no demons causing them both to think too much. There are no arguments over all the shit they’ve been through. It’s just them. Two people who are having a second chance.</p>
<p>As he pulls from her he looks at her with a soft smile, forehead against hers, not moving from the embrace. The happiness he feels standing there with her will soon float away from them, but for now he can relish in the fact that he <em> is </em>happy. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” He says softly then. “I’m going to make a lot of mistakes and all I can hope is you forgive me.”</p>
<p>“I’ll make a lot of them, too.” She whispers as she does not let go of him, rather keeping him against her frame. “I wish for us to heal together, David. If you don’t wish to speak of something let me know.” </p>
<p>He nods. That’s the rational way to approach these types of things. He isn’t always rational. </p>
<p>He moves to the couch even though he doesn’t want to be from her. He can’t say that his therapy session has made him at all comfortable in sharing, but he needs this now. She needs this. </p>
<p>“When you died,” the words feel cursed coming from him, David standing as Julia sits, “I reached my breaking point. I thought of everything that has happened in the last decade. I lost my friends, my wife, and <em>me</em>. I met you and you changed me. You changed everything I thought I knew. You were gone and I was tired. I was tired of living and fucking up. I thought Vicky deserved better. I thought the kids deserved better. Maybe a part of me just wanted to be where you were, as selfish as that is.” </p>
<p>He sits on the arm of the chair as he swallows back the guilt and tries to keep the emotion from overwhelming him too much. He doesn’t want to start crying there or realize how close he came to never seeing anyone he loves again. It’s a stain and he’s too ashamed to deal with it. What kind of person tries to kill themselves? How could he do that? He closes his eyes so he doesn’t allow the tears to fall and he can pretend he’s still okay.</p>
<p>David has to stop pretending he’s fine, he’s just not sure he’s ready. </p>
<p>When he opens his eyes they are glossy and he blinks them away until they are falling past the rim of his eyes. Julia is standing there before him as she brushes his tears away. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Julia.” He whispers, letting the tears flow freely now. “I’m so sorry.” </p>
<p>“I know.” </p>
<p>He isn’t sure if he’s apologizing for choking her, for trying to kill himself, or not saving her. Maybe he’s actually apologizing for the fact that he is so utterly broken he can barely engage in her own trauma no matter how much he wants to know what she’s thinking and feeling. He wants to know that she is alright and what her nightmares are about. Instead he rests his head against her chest as she strokes his hair and whispers to him that it will be alright. </p>
<p>David only moves when his back starts to hurt from how uncomfortable the embrace is. </p>
<p>He wipes his eyes as he looks up at her. She brushes his cheek with the back of her hand. He’s amazed at how comfortable she makes him feel. More so than he thinks anyone ever has before, ever will since. </p>
<p>“I’m not going to kill myself.” </p>
<p>“I believe you.” She says, placing a kiss on his forehead. </p>
<p>She grabs his hand and leads him to the bathroom. For a moment he is confused until she runs the water to fill the bathtub. </p>
<p>“Take your clothes off.” She instructs as she takes her own off. </p>
<p>He shakes off his jacket as he watches her. No shame lingers between them. But as her layers come off he sees the scars and marks left along her body. As her shirt falls to the floor he can see the marks from the shrapnel, the scar from the surgery she had coming down along her chest, other small nicks that are from all the other injuries he isn’t all that sure on the details of. He walks around behind her until he can see the scars that line her back. His fingers run over the healing skin.</p>
<p>His scars are rough and bumpy. Hers have that smooth feeling around the hard edges. He traces down her back until he comes to the mark around her hip. Her once perfect frame is now marked with evidence that the bombing had been severe enough that it truly is something of a miracle that she is alive before him. </p>
<p>“Do they hurt?”</p>
<p>“No.” She turns around to look at him. “The pain is not from the scars, though I will admit that occasionally my back aches.” When David opens his mouth to say something she puts her finger to his lips. “Hush.” </p>
<p>Julia turns the water off before she sheds the last of her clothing and relaxes down in the water. “Come.” </p>
<p>David carefully gets in the tub as he leans back against her. She moves to rest one of her arms around him, hand splaying against his chest. He relaxes after a few moments and closes his eyes as the warm water and the bubbles around him give him a certain peace and comfort. It doesn’t hurt she is there with him, too. </p>
<p>She is his rock. His home. His north star. </p>
<p>“We are going to relax, David.” She breathes in his ear. “We will eat something, lie in bed, and tomorrow we will be better than we are now.” </p>
<p>“Okay.” </p>
<p>“I have my own issues.” She continues, her fingers drawing along the tattoo along his shoulder. “I do not wish to burden you with them,” she kisses his shoulder, “as you can barely carry your own issues. Having you here is enough for me right now.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want you to think you have to take care of me.”</p>
<p>“I don’t.” She tells him. “I don’t know if you know this,” the tone is light and teasing, “but you would be hard pressed to make me do something I do not want to do.” </p>
<p>“Don’t I know it.” </p>
<p>“Relax, David.” She presses her lips against his shoulder again. “You and me. No one else.” </p>
<p>He reaches up to place his hand over her hand resting on his chest, leaning back against her, allowing her to fully comfort him. His eyes close as he tries to relax as she commands of him. She holds onto him and he feels the best he has in a bit. </p>
<p>"The explosion came out of nowhere." He starts, not opening his eyes, allowing the images of it to run through his mind. "We were driving through an area that we were told was deserted. The night before we heard so much gunfire, so many <em> children</em>," he had to pause, for the memories of some of the horrible things he saw and did are often too much for him to vocalize, "but we had orders."</p>
<p>The tension rises in his shoulders but she kisses the weak spot on his neck and he relaxes back against her. He needs her constant reminder that him talking about it is okay and that sharing is good. He isn’t always too sure the therapy is working but he’s opened up to her more in that day then he ever did to Vicky, or anyone else </p>
<p>"I never quite found out what happened. The last memory I have is walking with Andy and then," he shakes his head, but he is at least trying, "waking up in a hospital bed in screaming pain. I have never been in that much pain before or since. "</p>
<p>Julia's hand lowers against his abdomen. </p>
<p>"Do you wish to find out what happened? I can make some inquiries."</p>
<p>"No." He denies, shaking his head, resisting the urge to pull from her. "It won't make a difference for you or for me."</p>
<p>“Are you ever going to forgive me?”</p>
<p>His brows furrow. “I’m not mad at you.”</p>
<p>“Yes, you are.” She brushes her fingertips along his lower abdomen, just below the water, resting her chin on his shoulder. “You blame me, and the others who voted for the war, for what you went through. I understand, which is why I do not push the topic. I cannot say I would not have similar feelings if our positions were reversed. What I also know is that you would not find many people who were against the war, other than those peace loving hippies.”</p>
<p>The phrase <em> peace loving hippies </em> coming from Julia has him let out a snort as he smiles against his better judgement. </p>
<p>“You were not as against war as you are now, otherwise you would have not entertained the idea of joining the Army at all. You would have found some other work.” </p>
<p>David remains silent since she is speaking the truth. Instead he focuses on her hand and just how low she is moving her touch, even as the water cools every moment longer they are in there together. His hand moves to wrap around her leg next to him in the water, wanting to feel more of her, even as she is all over him. </p>
<p>“Perhaps, we are oblivious to the true effects war has upon the soldiers that go through out there. For that, I am sorry for what has happened to you, David.”</p>
<p>He nods as his thumb strokes against the smooth skin of her thigh. “Would you vote for it again?”</p>
<p>She remains quiet a little too long. David feels the way she pulls back just enough that he can feel the cool air moving between her chest and his back. He aims to fix that as he rests back to feel her breasts against his skin once more. The conversation isn’t easy, but he wants to be as close to her as he can be. At least they aren’t looking at one another. That makes it a little easier. </p>
<p>“Now or then?” She finally asks. </p>
<p>“<em>Now</em>.” </p>
<p>“I do not believe they are going to come up with another vote for troops to deploy.”</p>
<p>To his credit he keeps the relaxed demeanor even if he has to try really hard to not get frustrated with her non answer. “That’s not what I asked.”</p>
<p>“My job is complicated, David. It is not always as simple as what I want versus what I don’t.”</p>
<p>“Your RIPA-18 bill goes against what others in your party want.”</p>
<p>“For the good of the nation.” </p>
<p>“Bullshit.” He says, frowning. “But I’m not going to argue with you about it.”</p>
<p>“Because you do not want to see it from my point of view.”</p>
<p>“I try not to see most things from your point of view.” He replies. “<em>Politically</em>, I mean. There are things we have to agree to brush under the table if we want this to work.” It kind of kills him to say that and he tries not to think what that means for his morals. He and Vicky didn’t agree on everything. It’s not that different, right? “And I’ll stop blaming you for what I went through, because I know it’s not <em> really </em>your fault.” </p>
<p>“That’s all I ask.” </p>
<p>Whether or not the topic is truly closed away he isn’t exactly certain. It does feel as if they’ve come to some sort of agreement on the topic and the others that will linger between them. </p>
<p>“I’m not going to stop going to my Veteran’s for Peace meetings.” He decides then. “Not for my job, not for you.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t ask you to.”</p>
<p>“I want change, Julia.” </p>
<p>“Mm,” she kisses his shoulder again, letting the tension float away from them, “sounds as if I am having an effect on you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess you are.” </p>
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